Fallen Women

by Sandra Dallas

  “Oh, that’s all right. I’ll tell her.” He gave Beret a crooked smile, although there was no smile in his eyes, and then he said in a voice that made her shudder, “You be careful, miss. You don’t want nothing to happen to you like it did Miss Lillie. Maybe you ought to go back home.” He gave her a hard-eyed look and slunk away. It was the second time Jonas had warned her.

  He was almost like two different boys, one protective, the other threatening, Beret thought, as she returned the poker to its stand.

  She went up to her room then and turned the lock on the door. The lock was fragile. Beret herself could have broken it, but she felt safer with the door latched. She considered putting a chair in front of the door, but decided against it. Her aunt would be insulted if she found out.

  Beret removed her dress and hung it in the wardrobe. On impulse, she examined Lillie’s clothes. There was a fur jacket, and when Beret put her hand into the pocket, she discovered a diamond brooch, a distinctive one whose stones formed a rose. It was expensive. Why would Lillie have left such a fine piece of jewelry behind? Even if she didn’t want it, she could have sold it. Beret returned the brooch to its hiding place until she could figure out what to do with it.

  Curious now about the rest of Lillie’s things, Beret opened the drawers of the dresser. Nellie had unpacked Beret’s bags and put her garments into the top drawers, but Lillie’s possessions were in the lower drawers, and Beret went through them carefully, noting the fragile underthings, the lace fichus and scarves, the gloves. She picked up a kid glove, a long white one, and ran her hand over the buttery leather. Then she slipped her hand inside but felt something and withdrew a ring set with a diamond the color of champagne. When had Lillie developed a passion for diamonds? She had never worn much jewelry, only the pendant Beret had given her and their mother’s earrings shaped like stars. The other pieces must have been given to her, and she had secreted them so that her aunt wouldn’t know.

  Beret put on her nightdress and got into bed, but she thought about Jonas and could not sleep. She did not like the idea of his roaming the house when her aunt and uncle were away. After a while, she rose and went to the window and looked out at the stable in the moonlight. The sky was smoky with clouds. In time, she saw Jonas leave the building with the carriage, and much later, she heard the clop-clop of the horses as he returned. She watched as he pulled the carriage under the porte cochere beneath her window, and while she could not see her aunt and uncle, she heard them enter the house, heard the low sounds of their voices as they climbed the stairs. She felt safer knowing they were there—but not entirely safe, she thought.

  Chapter 14

  The judge was gone by the time Beret entered the breakfast room the following morning, and she found her aunt writing notes. The older woman put aside the pen and paper and said, “It’s ever so much nicer sitting here in the sun than in that gloomy library, don’t you think?”

  Beret remembered that she had left her letters on her uncle’s desk and said, “It was cozy writing letters in there last night. I hope you don’t mind if I used both the desk and your stationery. I left in such a hurry, I did not bring my own writing paper and did not want to use a letterhead from the police department. I must mail the letters today.”

  Varina waved her hand. “Of course we don’t mind. I gave them to William to post.” Beret went to the window and raised her face to the sunlight. A few days before, the lawn had been raked and rid of the detritus of winter, and the earth was fresh and moist. Green shoots had begun to push up in the flower garden, which was Varina’s pride. By May, the daisies and heartsease would be budding, the delphinium sending up stalks, and by June, there would be a profusion of flowers, all colors but mostly pink, a dozen hues of it, because it was Varina’s favorite color. Beret had seen the garden before, had immersed herself in the perfume of the roses and peonies. She looked closely and thought she saw violets already blooming, but that might have been just crumbs of purple leaves.

  The street was serene, peaceful. The trees, tall but not yet full grown, softened Grant Avenue’s ponderous houses of brick and stone. There were still traces of snow, drifts of it on the north sides of houses, but the sun had melted most of it, leaving only bits of ice that reflected the light like crystal beads.

  “Honestly, Aunt, I don’t understand the weather here. One day it snows, and the next, it might be summer. I should have packed for both.”

  “I think Lillie left enough gowns to allow you to dress for the seasons. They can be fitted to you. I’ll have William send for my dressmaker if you like.”

  Beret did not turn around. “Why is it she did not take her things with her? I was surprised to see them here.”

  “Who knows how women dress in those places?” Varina replied casually. “She took a few, and I thought she’d send for the rest after she was settled. If you don’t want them, then I suppose they can go to the church clothing drive. Some poor woman will think she’s a queen.”

  “They’re very nice, and expensive, too. I wonder how Lillie was able to acquire them.”

  “Your uncle gave her an allowance.”

  “It must have been a generous one.” Beret turned around and smiled at her aunt.

  Varina waved her arm. “I loaned her small sums. I said she could repay if she wished when the two of you had worked things out with your solicitor.”

  “You were very good to her, Aunt.” Then Beret said again, “I am surprised she left so much here. Did she leave her jewelry, too?”

  “Nothing of value.”

  William entered then with Beret’s breakfast, and she seated herself at the table. While Beret was wondering how to bring up the subject of Lillie’s paramours, Varina said, “I am surprised to see you this morning. I thought you’d gone off with Michael in another visit to our underworld. It seems to have taken possession of you. May I hope that you listened to what I said and have given it up?” She raised an eyebrow at Beret. “I suspect you haven’t, because Jonas told me you had quizzed him about Lillie.”

  “A little.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “Not much. Nothing you don’t know, that Lillie entertained men.”

  “I had hoped to keep it from you. I’m sorry you had to find out.”

  “I wanted to know.”

  Varina motioned to William to pour more coffee, and then she dismissed him. “You haven’t given it up, then.”

  “I hope to meet with Detective McCauley later today. He is conducting interviews.”

  Varina clapped her hands. “Surely it can wait until tomorrow. I insist you come with me on an outing today. The Presbyterian Church is having a clothing drive for the poor, and I am in charge. Of course we are happy to take clothing for men and children, but we are especially anxious to outfit the women. It is important that those looking for employment appear well groomed. As you know, too often the burden of supporting the family falls on women, and yet their wages barely put food on the table for one person, let alone a husband and children.”

  “You are too good, Aunt,” Beret said. “You are just like Mother.”

  “Not that good, I’m afraid. You remember, Beret, your mother and I were born poor ourselves. We knew what it was like to be hungry and ill clothed, so it’s little enough I can do. Besides, the work reflects well on your uncle, and I do so want him to get the Senate appointment.”

  “Is Mrs. Fisk, the woman you dined with last night, one of the women on your committee?”

  Varina regarded Beret a moment. “Little gets past you. Is that not so, Beret?”

  “I see nothing wrong with benefiting ourselves while we help others.” Beret wondered if she really felt that way or was just humoring her aunt.

  Varina smiled and stood, saying she had things to do. Jonas would take them to the meeting. Beret finished her breakfast and picked up her coffee cup, opening the door to a small side porch and going outside. The air, colder than it had appeared from the breakfast room, was fresh and clean, and Beret
lifted her head to feel the breeze. She leaned against the cold granite of the porch railing as she sipped from the cup and studied the mansions on the street, wondering if the women who presided over them were as concerned as her aunt about Denver’s poor or if their only thoughts were of teas and balls and parties. She heard a screeching sound and recognized the call of a peacock, then remembered her uncle telling her that a silver millionaire in the neighborhood had imported peacocks to roam his lawn. One of them must have gone for a stroll, because in a moment, Beret saw the creature walk stiff-legged down the street, his blue head turning from side to side in quick jerks, his bright feathers dragging in the dirt. Beret smiled at the pretentiousness of peacocks roaming the dirt yards of the newly built mansions, whose occupants, her uncle had told her, were only a day away from beans and fatback. A few months before, if they’d seen such a bird, she thought, they would have killed it and skinned it for the supper table.

  As if to underscore Denver’s questionable sophistication, a carriage the color of the sky drove past, its matching interior gleaming in the sunlight. The driver and coachman were dressed in similar livery, not the subdued uniforms of New York’s wealthy, but garish costumes that reminded Beret of Mr. Barnum’s museum in New York. She shook her head at the tastelessness of it, and then she laughed, as she realized she liked it. There was something childlike and gay about the nouveau riche culture of Denver, which had existed for less than a generation. In time, the newly rich would copy the style and mannerisms of her aunt, but for now, their lack of sophistication seemed appropriate for a town that was only half built.

  The loud uniforms reminded her of the spring that Lillie had been allowed to order her own dress for an Easter party, the first time she had been trusted with such a decision. Lillie had said it would be a surprise, and indeed it was. To Beret’s dismay, the dress, cut much too low in front for a girl of fourteen, was yellow and purple. It was more appropriate for a ball than for a religious occasion, Beret had said when Lillie flounced into the room wearing the creation. But Lillie begged to wear it, and Beret gave in, as she always did. After all, Lillie was of an age to begin choosing her own clothes. Beret was aware that the mothers of Lillie’s friends were shocked, pointing to Lillie with their fans and whispering to each other, but she couldn’t deny that Lillie looked fetching in what they referred to after that as the “Easter egg dress.” And Teddy had clapped his hands at the sight and declared Lillie was as delightful as a candy rabbit.

  * * *

  The meeting was not at the church. Only when they arrived at a mansion on Sherman Street just a few blocks from the Stanton house did Beret realize the women on the committee did not expect to sort through and distribute the clothing themselves but instead would oversee the drive—mostly by inviting each other to tea.

  Varina introduced Beret around, and the women scrupulously did not mention Lillie but said only that they did not know Varina had such a lovely niece, and wasn’t Beret charming? They chatted and gossiped behind their hands, and Beret began to wonder if her aunt had brought her to the meeting just so that the women would not discuss Lillie.

  “Your aunt is a little peculiar,” Ellen Fisk confided to Beret. “Other churches gather clothing to send to Africa and the Orient, but dear Varina wants us to distribute it in Denver. I know we have our poor, but it’s their own fault. If those men would just agree to work, why, their problems would be solved.”

  “What about the women?” Beret asked. “I daresay some must have been deserted by their husbands and left to feed a brood of little ones. Many women are illiterate and are unfit for employment. What can they do?”

  “Well, they should have chosen better husbands to begin with, shouldn’t they?” Ellen Fisk said with a little smile.

  Beret didn’t reply.

  “At least they could keep themselves clean,” Mrs. Fisk said. “There’s no excuse for filth. I wonder about giving them our clothing, since it will be in tatters before the year is out.”

  Beret had learned long before that arguing with such beliefs only created ill will. Besides, she was mindful that her aunt was cultivating Mrs. Fisk, and she knew that taking issue would only offend her. If this wealthy woman picking the frosting off a piece of cake with her fork and shoving it to the side of her plate had ever been poor herself, she had forgotten. And if she didn’t know the causes of poverty, she had no interest in learning them. Beret might tell her that the poor had no running water, that they must carry their water from a public pump blocks away, that they had no rags with which to scrub themselves and no way to make soap. How could she explain the dirt and the vermin, the despair that poverty brought? Arguing would brand her as a missionary or a mugwump and would cause her aunt dismay and maybe thwart her uncle’s ambition. And so Beret said, “I’m sure the recipients of your kindness will be grateful.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  A butler made the rounds with a tray of small cakes, a maid behind him with cups filled from an ornate silver coffee server. The reason for the gathering, Beret thought, was not so much to talk about the clothing drive—after all, once they had contributed their castoffs, the women had little to do with the project—but to socialize. So she decided to relax and enjoy the chance to get away for a few hours, to put aside thoughts of murder. Beret might spend her days on mission work, but she also enjoyed social gatherings. She and Teddy and Lillie had been part of a young set that gave many parties and entertainments. And Beret had a large circle of women friends with whom she lunched or had tea. What harm, then, to forget unpleasantness and indulge herself for an hour or two?

  She looked around the double parlor of the great house and took in the decorations, which were just this side of garishness. The windows were covered with lace curtains and velvet drapes, held in place by thick gold cords. They were topped by valences that had been gathered and pleated into elaborate folds. The furniture, upholstered in red velvet, was rosewood and uncomfortable, and the tables were covered with bright throws on which rested marble statues, a stereopticon, colored glass bowls, and a collection of curiosities. She watched as a woman, her back to Beret, picked up a vase of clear orange and red glass that was twisted and turned into a torturous shape. She set it down, a look of amusement on her face as she turned to the room, then looked guilty as she saw Beret watching her.

  “Mrs. Decker!” Beret said. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Miss Osmundsen.” Caroline Decker came forward and took Beret’s hands in hers. “I am so glad you can join our little dinner party. I was afraid you might be in mourning—dreadful custom that—and am delighted you have decided to go out in society.” She took Beret’s arm and led her to a window. A mansion was under construction next door, and Beret saw the huge blocks of cut stone that would compose the walls. Through the glass, she heard the sounds of hammers and saws and was distracted for a moment as she watched two men set a heavy beam in place.

  “I hope you will find my dinner more enjoyable than these dreadful charity teas,” Caroline whispered, as Beret turned back to her. “In the long run, I suppose we do some good, but if only the effort put into the social events was directed at something of more value.” She smiled. “Here I am going on. My mother would be outraged. And you may be, too.”

  “Not at all. In New York, I run a mission for poor women—women who’ve been beaten and raped, forced into…” She looked around the room and lowered her voice. “Prostitution.”

  “How interesting. I would like to hear more about it, but I’m afraid Mother is frowning at me and I must go.” She leaned forward and whispered, “I have only a little tolerance for teas and must tell you that I am just plain bored.”

  “I hope that on Saturday, we’ll have a chance for a conversation you’ll find more stimulating, Mrs. Decker.”

  “Caro, please, and I shall call you Beret. I hope we’ll be great friends.” She added as she pulled away, “You must tell me about your name sometime.”

  As the two young women
took leave of each other, Varina touched Beret’s arm and whispered, “Mrs. Fisk has asked my advice on a dress she is to wear to a party at the governor’s house. I’m afraid I must go with her. Do you mind if Jonas takes you home alone?”

  Beret didn’t mind at all. In fact, there was time for her to call at the police station yet that day, and she would ask Jonas to take her there. Her aunt would not know in time to object. She said her good-byes, then got into the carriage and told Jonas to drive her to City Hall. He refused to start up. “Mrs. Stanton says take you home.”

  “Well, I don’t want to go home, do I?” she replied sharply, annoyed that Jonas now seemed to be directing her life. She had done as she pleased ever since her parents’ deaths, and she felt restricted in Denver, her aunt and uncle attempting to influence whether she could be involved in finding her own sister’s killer. The two might have a claim on her actions—after all, she was their guest—but she would not be dictated to by Jonas, as grateful as she was for his earlier assistance.

  “Mrs. Stanton won’t like it.”

  “Jonas, take me to City Hall or let me out, and I shall walk.”

  “You stay out of Miss Lillie’s murder. Something happen to you.”

  “Why do you keep telling me that?”

  “There’s a madman out there. I heard that detective say there’d be another murder.”

  Beret sighed. “As I told you, I am not convinced my sister was killed by a madman.”

  “You will be if there’s another’n.”

  “I’ve asked you to drive me to City Hall. Will you take me there or disobey?” Beret felt sorry for Jonas, sorry for his wretched life, but she had work to do and would not be controlled by his fear of disobeying her aunt.

  “I’m trying to keep you safe, miss.”

  “Do you think I’d be safer if I got out and walked?”

  “No, ma’am.” Jonas slapped the reins on the horses’ backs, and without another word, he set off. Beret leaned back in the carriage, closing her eyes, wondering if she should tell Mick about the confrontation in Hop Alley. When the carriage stopped and she opened them again, she discovered she was not at City Hall at all but back at the Stanton house. She sighed. Now she would have to wait until morning to see Mick. Jonas had made sure of that.