The Brightest of Dreams

by Susan Anne Mason

  As she planned to do.

  She stepped out onto the sidewalk and let out a long breath, the walk home suddenly seeming more than she could endure. For some reason, she was more tired than usual after her shift, so much so that her very bones ached. But she had no choice since the streetcars had stopped for the evening.

  The shadows appeared extra dark as she forced her feet to move faster. She’d never felt unsafe walking home in the evening, but tonight her nerves were getting the best of her. The visit from Mr. Aspinall must have unsettled her more than she’d realized.

  For a moment, she allowed her mind to wander back to Brentwood Manor, where she’d spent her teenage years with her cousin, Amelia. Though their fathers were brothers, the two girls had been raised in entirely different circumstances. Julia’s father, the younger of the Holloway brothers and therefore not the heir, had become a minister, and their family had lived very modestly in several vicarages over the years.

  Until the day her parents had died in a tragic carriage accident and Julia was sent to Brentwood.

  Amelia had done her best to school Julia in the ways of the nobility, but Julia had found the rules so confining and was always worried about a misstep of one sort or another.

  Like the time she had noticed the attractive young man in uniform standing in the great hall and had whispered to Amelia, “Oh my. Your father’s valet is rather handsome, don’t you think?”

  Amelia had looked at her in horror. “For pity’s sake, Julia, he’s a servant! You have plenty of handsome, rich men to choose from. You needn’t pay the staff any mind at all, unless it’s to ask them to fetch your bags.” Amelia’s voice had been loud enough that Julia was certain the valet had heard her.

  Mortification had burned her face, and from then on she’d remembered never to talk about a servant again.

  How incredibly odd—and rather troubling—that all these years later, her uncle’s valet was here in Canada looking for her.

  An auto’s horn blared, startling Julia from her thoughts. The streetlamps in this part of town were sparse indeed, and her unease continued to mount as she walked. At last, she reached her building, grateful to see some of the tenants sitting on the curb, smoking cigarettes, more than likely trying to escape the confines of their stuffy rooms.

  “Evening, Miss Holloway,” one man called. “You’re working late tonight, I see.”

  “I am indeed, Mr. Wood.” She paused at the foot of the stairs to smile at the older gentleman. “How is Mrs. Wood? Is she over her cold yet?” The man’s wife had suffered with bronchitis most of the winter, the cough lingering well into spring.

  “She’s much improved at last. She said to thank you for the last batch of soup you brought her.” He winked at her, his eyes crinkling.

  “It was no trouble at all.” Last week, Julia had asked the soup kitchen for an extra ration, which she’d taken up to share with the Woods. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve an early shift tomorrow.”

  “You have a good night, then,” Mr. Blackmore said. “But watch out for Ketchum. He’s been asking for you.”

  Her stomach twisted. She still owed the landlord the remainder of the rent—not to mention two months of arrears. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll tiptoe past his flat.”

  Suddenly a man appeared out of the shadows. “Miss Holloway? Might I have a quick word before you go in?”

  Julia froze. Her spine snapped into place as a slow curl of anger rose through her chest. “Did you follow me here, Mr. Aspinall? After I told you I didn’t need an escort?” Though her nerves were jumping, she sent him an icy glare.

  He shot a glance at Mr. Wood and Mr. Blackmore, who’d risen to their feet. “Forgive me, but I sensed I might not get the chance to speak to you again if I didn’t.”

  “It’s very late, Mr. Aspinall. I’m in no mood right now—”

  “I didn’t mean tonight.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Only that we make arrangements to meet at your convenience.”

  “Is this fellow bothering you?” Mr. Wood came up beside her. “Because we can make sure he leaves.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Wood, but it’s all right.” Anxiety twisted her stomach into knots. How could she get rid of this man without causing any undue commotion? The last thing Julia needed was to give her landlord any further reason to evict her. She let out a sigh. “Very well, Mr. Aspinall. My shift is over at three thirty tomorrow afternoon. Meet me at the hospital, and I’ll allow you to buy me that cup of tea.”

  The man’s face flooded with relief. “Thank you, Miss Holloway. Until tomorrow, then.”

  He gave a bow and stepped back from the building.

  Julia gathered her skirt and started up the cement stairs, resisting the urge to wait for him to leave. Somehow, she knew he would see her safely inside before he departed. A heaviness weighed in her stomach at the thought of having to meet him tomorrow. Now the man would surely report back to her uncle all the unpleasant details of her menial job and decrepit living conditions.

  Oh, why had she broken down in a moment of weakness and written to Amelia? Even though she’d asked her cousin not to reveal anything about Julia’s dire circumstances, Amelia must have divulged the contents of the letter to her father. Why else would Uncle Howard have sent his employee to find her?

  She pressed her lips together, warding off unpleasant memories of her last altercation with her guardian and his shouted ultimatum. “If you leave my home to run off with that soldier, you’ll be on your own, cut off from any further financial assistance. And you won’t be welcome here again.”

  If only she hadn’t openly defied him, she might still have a home to return to. But now her pride simply wouldn’t allow her to go crawling back, even if she’d had the money to do so.

  No, she would have to figure a way out of this mess on her own.

  No matter what Quinten Aspinall had to tell her tomorrow.

  ———

  As Julia made her way to her room, her initial relief at having made it by Mr. Ketchum’s flat gave way to an increasing sense of dread that thickened her throat and slowed her steps.

  It had been too easy. If her landlord had indeed been asking about her, as Mr. Blackmore claimed, he would have been listening for her footfall as he had the other day. There was no way he’d give up so quickly.

  Her instincts proved correct when she rounded the corner of the third floor and found the hulking figure standing in the corridor outside her door, arms crossed over his barrel chest.

  “Good evening, Mr. Ketchum.” She forced a smile to her lips, offering a prayer that the man would be reasonable. For once.

  “It will be—after I get my money.” His thick brows crashed together. “I was expecting you home sooner. Not avoiding me, I hope.”

  “Of course not.” Julia fumbled in her bag for the key. “I was asked to cover someone’s shift today.” She pushed the door open an inch. “Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to see about an advance on my pay.”

  “Advance? You told me it was payday.”

  She swallowed. Was that what she’d told him? She couldn’t actually remember what she’d said in the panic of the moment. “I meant that I was going to ask for an advance. Payday is next week. But I promise I’ll—”

  “I’m sick of your promises, missy.” He took a menacing step forward. “If you can’t pay me right now, you have two choices. Pack your things and leave immediately. Or . . .”

  Her throat constricted. “Or what?”

  “We can negotiate a different type of payment.” He lowered his head toward her, his mouth hovering near her ear. “Services in lieu of cash.”

  His sour breath made Julia’s stomach lurch. From the leer on his face, she knew exactly what type of services he expected. Unwelcome images of another man flew to mind. A man who had used her naiveté against her in a most vile manner. Her breath became shallow and her hands shook. She stepped back from the landlord, edging one foot inside her door. “The answer is still
no.”

  His eyes became black coals of fury. “You’d rather sleep in the gutter with the rats?”

  Courage stiffened her spine. “That’s right.”

  Steely fingers wrapped around her upper arm, biting into the flesh.

  A strangled cry escaped her before she bit down on her lip.

  “You’re forgetting about the outstanding amount you still owe me.” He squeezed tighter. “I could send for the constable right now. I’m sure he’d have a nice jail cell ready and waiting for you.”

  A frantic pulse beat in her throat. Where were Mr. Wood and Mr. Blackmore? Had they come in yet? She tried to wrench her arm free, but the bully twisted it cruelly. The only thing she could do was pray that one of the other tenants would come to her aid.

  She took in a breath and screamed as loud as she could.

  Quinn stared at the two men who’d been sitting on the front stoop when he arrived. They now moved closer, assessing Quinn with unfriendly eyes.

  “Don’t bother coming back here,” the thinner man said. “It’s clear Miss Holloway doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “And I’d forget about meeting her tomorrow as well.” The second man, at least twenty years junior to the first, crossed his arms. “She only agreed to meet you in order to get you to leave.”

  Quinn pushed his shoulders back and kept his gaze even. “I have no undesirable intentions, I assure you. Miss Holloway’s uncle, the Earl of Brentwood, sent me to find out how she’s faring so far from home.”

  The thin man snickered. “Well, la-di-dah. If Julia has such fancy relatives, why would she be living here?” He waved a dirt-encrusted hand toward the building behind him.

  Why indeed? “That’s what I intend to find out.”

  A faint cry sounded from somewhere inside the building.

  Quinn stiffened. He scanned the bricks, spying an open window several floors above.

  When a second, much louder scream pierced the night, Quinn immediately raced up the steps to the building. If Julia was in trouble, he had to help.

  “Third floor,” one man shouted after him.

  Without hesitating, Quinn took the stairs two at a time until he reached the third story, where he paused to determine which direction to take next.

  A muffled grunt drew him to the right. At the end of the hallway, two figures stood very close together. As he got nearer, he saw a beefy man had Julia by the upper arm. She was struggling against him, but her slight frame was no match for his brawn.

  Quinn marched forward. “Take your hands off her immediately.”

  The man froze, then whirled to face Quinn. “Who the devil are you?”

  “That is of no consequence. Let her go. Now.”

  Julia’s eyes went wide, and her bottom lip quivered.

  “This is a private matter between me and my tenant.”

  “Being a landlord does not give you the right to assault your tenants.”

  “This tenant is in arrears, and I’m within my rights to get my money by whatever means I deem necessary.”

  For such a creepy character, he certainly had command of the English language. Almost as though he’d memorized the law book pertaining to landlords’ rights.

  “And this is how you collect your rent? By bullying defenseless women?”

  “None of your business,” the burly man snarled. “You’re trespassing on private property. If you don’t leave immediately, I’ll have you arrested.”

  “By all means, telephone the authorities. I don’t mind explaining why I felt the need to enter this hovel.”

  And a hovel was indeed the best description. Paint curled off the walls, while the stench of urine and rotting meat was enough to turn his stomach.

  The landlord released his grip on Julia’s arm and moved toward him. Although Quinn stood a good head taller, the other man outweighed him by a fair bit, judging by his bulging belly.

  Quinn stood his ground. “How much does the lady owe you?”

  That brought the man up short. A greedy new light sparked in his eyes. “Twenty-one dollars.”

  Still not totally familiar with Canadian currency, Quinn sensed this was a rather high sum, especially for someone who cleaned floors for a living. He withdrew his money pouch from his jacket, loosened the drawstring, and shook out some of the gold coins the earl had given him to cover expenses. It seemed only fitting to use the earl’s money to help Julia. He chose one and handed it to the man. “I think this should more than cover any outstanding debt.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Is that real gold?”

  “It is.” While the man fingered the coin, Quinn walked toward Julia, who hovered by an open door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll help the lady pack her belongings.”

  Julia’s mouth fell open.

  “There’s no need to be hasty.” The landlord shoved his loot into a pocket. “If this payment turns out to be legitimate, she can stay. At least until next month’s rent is due.”

  “How gracious of you. However, I believe Miss Holloway will be looking for more suitable lodging. Good evening.”

  With a hand under her elbow, Quinn ushered Julia into her room and shut the door behind them.

  “I . . . I . . .” Julia rounded on him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Color returned to her ashen cheeks.

  Quinn remained by the door. “You can’t stay here. Not with a lecherous oaf like that on the prowl.”

  She crossed her arms, her nostrils pinched. “You have no right to interfere in my life.”

  “Miss Julia.” He stared directly into her brown eyes. “Please allow me to ensure your safety and find you somewhere decent to live.”

  “Do you think I want to live in a place like this?” She practically hissed at him. “It’s all I can afford on the wages I earn.”

  Quinn paused to carefully consider his next words. “I’m acquainted with a woman who runs a very respectable boardinghouse. She also has many connections in the city. Let me take you there, for tonight at least, and I’m sure she will help you find alternate accommodations. Something within your budget.”

  He waited while she considered her options. A host of emotions flickered over her lovely face. She possessed a beauty that no amount of hardship could mar.

  At last her shoulders slumped. “Very well. Anywhere would have to be better than here.”

  “Don’t worry. If Mrs. Chamberlain can’t come up with a solution, I’m sure there must be another equally horrid place with a room to let,” Quinn teased, hoping to coax a smile.

  Julia’s lips twitched, then grew into a reluctant smile. “Fine. I’ll pack my belongings.”

  Julia came to a halt on the walkway. Before her, the boardinghouse loomed tall in the darkness, yet the welcoming glow of light from the front window shone like a beacon of hope. Could she really stay in this lovely residence?

  “Maybe the landlady is in bed for the night,” Julia whispered. “I don’t want to disturb her.”

  Quinn—as he insisted she call him—mounted the steps to the long porch and rapped loudly on the front door. After several seconds with no response, he repeated the action. “She won’t mind. Especially when she hears about your circumstances.”

  Julia bit her lip. As much as she appreciated Quinn’s intervention with Mr. Ketchum, the fact remained that she was now homeless, dependent on the kindness of strangers for a place to sleep tonight.

  The door opened, and a plump woman in a bathrobe appeared. She squinted through the screen. “Quinten? Is that you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but I have a bit of an emergency.” He gestured to Julia. “This is Miss Julia Holloway, an acquaintance from home. She’s in dire need of a place to stay tonight.”

  Heat bloomed in Julia’s cheeks. How she hated being the object of people’s pity. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. And I’m terribly sorry to bother you.”

  “No bother at all, dear. And both of you please stop with all the ‘ma’ams’. You can cal
l me Mrs. C., or Harriet if you prefer.” She swung open the screen door. “Please, come in.”

  Julia entered the house and found herself in a cozy foyer. Quinn followed and set her bag in the corner.

  “I’ve just finished my nightly tea,” the woman said, “but I’m sure there’s some left in the pot if you’d like a cup.”

  “We’d love one,” Quinn said before Julia could answer.

  Mrs. C. pointed to a room on the right. “Make yourself comfortable, then. I’ll be right back.”

  Clutching her handbag, Julia entered the parlor and looked around. A large floral sofa and overstuffed armchairs surrounded the fireplace. Above the mantel, a painted landscape of an English cottage made Julia’s throat tighten with another attack of homesickness.

  “What a lovely room,” she said as she took a seat on the sofa.

  “It is indeed.” Quinn smiled. “Reminds me of my childhood home. Before my father died.” A flash of sorrow passed over his features.

  Julia peered at him, suddenly aware of how little she knew about him. What kind of life had he lived before he came to Brentwood? All she remembered was a young man in servant’s livery. Now she found herself wanting to know what had led him to become employed in her uncle’s household.

  He came to sit across from her. “Please don’t worry, Miss Holloway. Everything will be fine. I promise.” His earnest gray eyes radiated sincerity. Could she accept his gesture of kindness? The last time she’d accepted a stranger’s charity she’d lived to regret her misjudgment.

  Yet something about Quinn felt safe and dependable. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious. “What makes you so certain everything will turn out fine?” she said in a soft voice. “I doubt I’ll be able to afford the rent here.”

  He studied her. “I don’t know Mrs. Chamberlain well, but I do know she has a big heart and is especially sympathetic to immigrants. In fact, she helps the minister at her church run a support group for newcomers.” He chuckled. “Be warned. She’ll do her best to get you to join them.”