“What’s all this about your brother being in the insane asylum?” Reed asked without preamble.
“How did you—?” Charlotte began.
“John arrived back just as I was coming after you.”
“It doesn’t make any sense at all,” Alicia interrupted. “Are you sure it was my nephew?”
Charlotte tried not to feel exasperated. “It has only been fourteen months since I last saw Teddy, and I don’t believe that even if it had been fourteen years I could forget what my own brother looks like.”
“But why didn’t you just explain to whoever was in charge that Thaddeus was not demented, or a killer, and then you could have brought him home for supper?”
Charlotte glanced at Reed, then tried to explain to her aunt about Thaddeus’s silent warning, but the older woman would not understand.
Hearing a carriage, Charlotte raced to the window, thinking perhaps Jason had returned with news. Instead, the hall was soon filled with excited voices as Thomas and Lily came in from an outing with Bridget. They grabbed onto Reed and hugged him for all he was worth.
“That’s enough, bub and sis,” Alicia intoned. “Upstairs to the nursery, and quietly please. Charlotte, why don’t you explain the details to Mr. Malloy while I try to teach my grandchildren the civilized way to enter a house.” She bustled up the stairs, shooing the children in front of her.
“Tell me what’s going on, Charlotte,” Reed asked as they sat down in the parlor.
She filled him in on exactly what had occurred and his face became more and more dour. Finally, he ran a hand roughly through his hair.
“I have contacts in the police department. I’ve been on the defense end of a few trials. At least, it should be easy to discern who charged your brother and for what.”
She hated to bring up his name again, but she had to. “Jason has already headed to City Hall.”
“I wish he’d go to hell!” Reed exclaimed, standing up. “Look, I’m not going to address this now, but as far as Jason Farnsworth is concerned, I don’t want you to share any more information with him, to go anywhere with him, even to speak to him, until I tell you otherwise.”
“Blazes!” she said, jumping up from her seat. “Ever since I arrived . . . no, ever since you returned to Boston and met Jason in Aunt Alicia’s garden, you have done nothing but bully. I am a grown woman and you have been overprotective and overbearing.”
“Overprotective. Overbearing,” he repeated her words, while she stood there quivering with anger. Slowly, he took a step forward, forcing her to step back if she did not want to be nose to chest with him.
“I suppose you do bring out in me a primal urge to protect you. But contrary to what you believe, I see that you are making your way admirably in Boston, better than I could have hoped. However, I will repeat myself just once. Stay away from Farnsworth. Contrary to what you think, I believe you are ignorant of his true character.”
“Explain yourself,” Charlotte said, feeling as if she wanted to choke him.
“Shall I waste time talking about Farnsworth or shall I go see about your brother?”
“But—”
“But me no buts, Charlotte. I don’t want you even leaving this house until I tell you that it is safe to do so.”
Charlotte watched his tall, straight back retreat from the parlor. She heard the door close with only the slightest of emphasis. And he was gone. Blast the man! Why did it annoy her so much more when Reed gave her orders than when Jason did?
Realizing she was once again wringing her hands, she dropped them to her sides before taking a seat in the chair he had vacated. It was still warm. Charlotte sat only a moment, however, before dashing upstairs to tell her aunt of her intention to go out.
******
“This is absolutely not a good idea,” Alicia said, standing in front of the door. “I can’t possibly allow you to run off in the state you’re in.”
Charlotte pinned on her hat and adjusted her cloak. She took a deep breath. She was not going to shove her aunt aside. She needed to get command of her emotions and deal with her rationally.
“I am perfectly calm, Aunt. I am level-headed and I am determined. I simply cannot wait any longer. Mr. Farnsworth talked of his family’s influence and Mr. Malloy mentioned his contacts. Well, as a writer for the Boston Post, I have influence, and two days ago, I made contacts at the police station. I’m determined not to sit here helplessly while the men run around getting nowhere.”
She knew Reed would not be happy. But this was her brother, and she had a right and a duty to take care of Teddy, just as she had done when they were children.
Alicia pursed her lips and gave her head another shake, her impossibly high curls springing around her pale face.
Charlotte tried again. “Aunt, I appreciate your concern, and I will act with all due caution, but you cannot,” she gentled her voice, “stop me.”
Her aunt sniffed. “I have lost my sister and my daughter.” The words came out without a waver in her voice. They were an undeniable fact that the older lady was relaying, not to seek pity, but as a warning. “I am not inclined, Charlotte, to lose you.”
“I know.” Charlotte’s voice broke. “I am not inclined to lose you either. Please, understand, I was not raised to sit idly by.”
Alicia looked at her feet a moment. “No, my sister would not have raised you so. You very much resemble her in manner and spirit. Well then, I will read the children a story. And I expect you home by supper.”
Charlotte felt a surge of warmth for the older woman. Family. Family was so important. She hugged her aunt, who returned the embrace tightly, then stepped aside.
“Be discreet, be calm,” Charlotte coached herself on the way to City Hall in Alicia’s carriage. What worried her was that, undoubtedly, there had to be officials who already knew they had the wrong man. If those men found out that she knew who Thaddeus was, she could, indeed, be in danger.
Charlotte was still talking to herself as she got out of the carriage. Before she had taken two steps, she was grabbed from behind with a vice-like grip clamping over her upper arm. She closed her eyes and would have shrieked, but the wind was knocked out of her as she was swung back against the side of the barouche.
“I should throttle you,” came the menacing voice in her ear.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Charlotte opened her eyes at the sound of Reed’s voice. She looked up at him, his deeply furrowed brow displaying how livid he really was.
“In front of the police station?” she said softly, her heart beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. He had come out of nowhere, surprising the breath out of her. “I could have you arrested for manhandling me,” she added, trying to make light of the situation. She didn’t succeed.
“You are going to climb right back into this carriage and go to your aunt’s house. And when I get there—”
“I’m not going anywhere. And what have you accomplished? It’s been nearly twenty minutes and I’ve beaten you here. I’m going in there to speak calmly to some of the gentlemen I interviewed two days ago. I’m sure they’ll help me.”
“I stopped at the office to make some discreet phone calls. I had to confirm something about the carriage that nearly sent you flying the other day.”
“The shay? What has that to do with my brother?”
“Maybe nothing, maybe everything. It belongs to—”
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” It was Helen Belgrave, and all Charlotte’s best intentions to stay calm and to be discreet were forgotten.
The dark-haired woman was walking along the street, her reticule swinging from her wrist, and her carriage following along to take any packages she purchased. But she didn’t look as if she was in a shopping mood. In fact, Helen’s mouth was tight with anger as she approached them.
“So, you are out in public now, groping on the street! Reed,” she directed her gaze at him, “this is not to be borne. I won’t stand for it. You will cease gallivanting
with this country girl, at least until I’ve told people that we are no longer together. I will not be humiliated by this guttersnipe. I have been patient, but I promise you, I’ll shred her reputation and yours. Is that clear?”
Reed opened his mouth to speak, but Charlotte, who was in no mood to be polite, spoke first.
“No, Miss Belgrave. Let me make one thing unequivocally clear. Your threats are tedious and pointless, not to mention showing a general ill-breeding that I would think you ashamed to display. You have a reputation in this town to ruin. However, I do not, so I suggest you shut pan all together.”
She took a step toward Helen, who stood open-mouthed as Charlotte continued.
“The mud you sling will be of no great shakes to me, but will be seen as the embittered ranting of a woman who didn’t have the dignity in the first place to leave a relationship when she knew—and apparently the whole of Boston knew—she was utilitarian at best and a physical amusement only occasionally.” Charlotte paused, her chest heaving.
“You did say only occasionally, did you not, Reed?” She turned to him for confirmation. Looking somewhat stunned, he nodded before leveling his azure gaze on Helen, who was now staring, white-faced, at the both of them.
“Helen, what the impassioned Miss Sanborn is trying to tell you is that you’re fighting a losing war. I thought I’d explained the situation to you thoroughly in St. Louis. I thought you understood that we were finished.”
His voice was firm but not harsh as he continued, “I truly believe that you deserve better than I can give you, and I know I want more than what we had. Besides you can’t hurt Miss Sanborn’s reputation, since I’ve already asked her to marry me.”
Without batting an eye, Charlotte let Reed escort her past the speechless Helen and into City Hall. Once inside, however, they halted. Reed looked down at her.
“Are you quite collected?”
“Yes, though I feel as if I’ve whipped my weight in wild cats.”
Charlotte smiled at the desk sergeant whom she had spoken with previously. He looked surprised to see her again, and even more surprised to see one of Boston’s foremost lawyers with her.
“Miss Sanborn has enlisted my professional help in her article,” Reed explained. “As I have represented a number of defendants who ended up institutionalized instead of incarcerated, Miss Sanborn thought I could give her some information on how the men behaved before treatment. I usually rely on you to keep the detailed records,” he lied, “and I’m wondering, Sergeant, if we can have a look at some recent murder trial records.”
“As you know, Mr. Malloy, murderers hardly ever end up at the Lunatic Hospital,” the sergeant replied. “However, I believe there were a few who have done so. Whether you represented them or some pettifogger did, I can’t say.”
“Well,” Reed tried again, “perhaps you could just let us browse through the records of all the murderers who are now in the hospital and even if I didn’t handle the cases, I’ll be able to give Miss Sanborn my professional opinion.”
The sergeant sighed, looking at the pile of work on his desk. “It is rather late, almost my supper time. If you return tomorrow—”
“Perhaps, Sergeant,” Charlotte piped up with the artifice that had worked so well on the janitor at the hospital, “you would be available for a quote or two that I could put in my article, something along the lines of ‘the highly professional and cooperative police department doing such a splendid job of keeping the dangerous criminals off the street.’”
The man visibly swelled with pride. “I think I could arrange to say something quotable,” he told her. “Why don’t the two of you take a seat in that office—the captain’s out today—and I’ll bring you in the records.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Reed said, escorting her to the office where they each took a seat. “That was very smooth, lady writer.” In moments, they had a pile in front of them which they divided in two.
“I just pulled records for six months,” the sergeant told them. “As I said, there aren’t many murderers allowed to rehabilitate. Most of them end up dead or in the state prison at Charlestown. Even the best of ‘em,” he added, gesturing to Reed and including all lawyers, “can’t get some men out on hocus pocus. That wasn’t, by the by, my official quote.”
“Sergeant,” Reed caught him before he left. “Did anyone else come in asking to see these records today?”
“Now, why would anyone else be interested in examining what, if you ask me, is as boring as checkers?” he asked over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
Reed looked at her. She looked at him.
“Perhaps Jason simply didn’t think of it,” she offered lamely. Reed rolled his eyes but remained silent as they started to search, looking for descriptions of the defendants and immediately eliminating those that could not be Thaddeus Sanborn.
“I think I may have located his file,” Reed said some ten minutes later. “Charged with murder, six feet one, brown hair, green eyes, a small scar on his right hand?” He raised his eyebrows, looking to Charlotte for confirmation.
Charlotte blanched and nodded. She vividly remembered the day that Teddy had fallen out of the large tree in their front yard.
“He was all of nine years old,” she said aloud, thinking of how he’d punctured his hand on a sharp rock. He hadn’t cried then or when her mother cleaned and dressed the wound. “It’s a crescent-shaped mark in the palm of his right hand.”
“That scar and that hand now belong to one Jeremy Dawson,” Reed announced.
“Who was he supposed to have murdered?” she asked, feeling a little dazed.
“It says here that he took the life of Arthur Harvey, a seaman, three months ago. Well that explains why I didn’t hear about the case,” Reed added. “I was in Spring City. The body
was discovered by the docks, on Rowe’s Wharf, not too far from my house, actually,” Reed told her, thinking over what businesses were in that area.
“The murder went unsolved for one week and then Jeremy Dawson was deposited on their doorstep with a nasty bump on his head and the murder weapon in his coat pocket. They also found papers on him indicating his identity.”
“Good grief,” Charlotte exclaimed, “what an obvious setup. Someone at the station must have wondered who’d hit my brother and left him on the steps. Of course, if no one knew him in town and he had papers on him to indicate an identity, then they would not believe anything that he told them.”
“Especially with the murder weapon—it was a knife, incidentally—on his person, no doubt covered in his fingerprints and his alone. His motive was supposedly simple theft.” He lay the open file down.
“I wonder why someone wanted your brother to be put away. It says here,” Reed continued, “that the prosecuting attorney pressed for the death penalty, or, at the very least, a life sentence to Charlestown.”
“How did Teddy end up at the hospital?” Charlotte asked, a wave of terror going through her at how close her brother had come to hanging.
“The judge decided that the bump on your brother’s head and his unvarying story that he was not Dawson but Thaddeus Sanborn from Colorado persuaded him to seek a psychiatric consultation.”
“But why didn’t they simply check out his story? They could easily have telegraphed to Spring City where I would have corroborated his identity, or what about our county clerk’s office where our birth records are on file?”
“What about his own aunt living ten minutes away?” Reed added, continuing to leaf through the thin file. “Ah ha. It states here that his entire story was checked, yet nothing and no one could confirm it.”
“But that’s impossible, unless—”
“Unless the officer assigned to check his story lied.”
“And that officer is?” Charlotte asked.
“A Sergeant Sheffield. I’ve heard his name before around the courts, but nothing particular comes to mind. I’ll check into it. Perhaps someone is paying him off.”
“Either that,” Charlotte said, “or he is the worst detective in the entire police force. I’ve a notion to go find this Sergeant Sheffield and tell him exactly who I am and who my brother is.”
Reed stood up. “You’ll do no such thing. I’d say that whoever did this to your brother knows his real name and who he is, and in that case, knows you, at least by name. Your presence in Boston, not to mention here at the police station, puts you in danger. Doubly so, if the culprit already knows that you’re working on an article that takes you anywhere near the hospital.”
He took hold of her hands and fixed his gaze on her. “Charlotte, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Neither do I,” she told him, swallowing hard at the emotion on his handsome face.
“Then be a smart woman and listen to me There is nothing more you can do today. I’m going to take you home, and I want you to stay there until I come for you myself. Hopefully, with your brother. And whatever you do, Charlotte,” he squeezed her arms, “don’t go out with anyone, unless I’m with you. All right?”
His tone was scaring her into behaving in a less than independent way, but for the moment, she didn’t mind Reed looking after things.
“Reed . . .” She wanted to ask him more about his plans, but his lips came down on hers and sealed off her words. The kiss was necessarily brief but its impact reached clear to her toes.
“Don’t fight me on this, Charlotte.”
She shook her head. “No, Reed, I won’t.”
*******
It was with some trepidation that Charlotte watched Jason alight from a carriage that pulled up outside Alicia’s house just before supper. She felt as drained as the empty tea cup that sat beside her.
Though the children had wanted her to play with them, she’d been unable to leave the window seat in the front room, clinging to Reed’s promise to return should he learn anything else about her brother. She felt as if she would jump out of her skin with the waiting.
An Improper Situation (Sanborn-Malloy Historical Romance Series, Book One) Page 29