Katie Rose (31 page)

“You are being charged with performing charlatan spiritualism, accepting money for such practices, performing illegal tarot card readings, and … soliciting.”

Penelope gasped, and pressed her hands to her mouth in horror. Jennifer had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She glanced at Winifred, who didn’t look at all surprised, but continued to question the officer pointedly.

“And who filed the complaint?”

“The name is Howe. A Miss Allison Howe.”

There was a stunned silence in the room. Penelope squealed, her eyes flashing with righteous anger. “Allison! Why, I know what this is all about! She likes Mr. Forester, who happens to be smitten with Jennifer, and rightfully so.” Penelope stood beside her sister loyally. “This is just spiteful jealousy on her part!”

“I’m sorry, miss, it doesn’t matter why she complained, just that she did. I’m afraid I have to take you all in.”

Aunt Eve waved a finger in the policeman’s face. “That is utterly ridiculous! There has to be some dreadful mistake! My girls are not guilty of any such thing. I’m going straight away to see that young miss and get to the bottom of all this nonsense. Imagine, her slandering my lambs like that!” Aunt Eve huffed indignantly.

The police chief looked helplessly at the Appletons. “I’m sorry, madam. You know how much I think of the girls. We’ve turned a blind eye to their doings, knowing they had to make a living the best they knew how. But this time, there is nothing I can do. I tried to talk to the young lady who complained, but she refused to listen. She insisted on pressing charges, and has already seen the judge. Girls, can you please come with me?”

“No one is taking the girls anywhere!” Aunt Eve insisted. “Winifred, isn’t there something we can do about this?”

Winifred rose from her perch near the fire and examined the paperwork, then returned it to the mortified police officer. “I’m afraid he’s right, Auntie. The paperwork’s all in order. There’s nothing we can do right now.”

Penelope sniffed in outrage. Jennifer pressed her hand comfortingly to her sister’s arm.

“Why don’t you get ready, dear? I’ll think of something, don’t worry.”

Aunt Eve paced, followed by the tiger kitten, who seemed fascinated with the trail of her shawl. Winifred gathered up her law books, her great intellect already preoccupied with the legal possibilities of their situation. Eve glanced outside and saw the wagon, then turned to the policeman in horror.

“You don’t mean to take them in that!”

Tim nodded reluctantly. “That is the accepted method of transport.”

“Why, the scandal! Do you mean to take them down to the Ludlow Street jail in that conveyance, where everyone can see! You’ll ruin the girls for life!”

It didn’t seem possible for the officer to turn any redder, but he did. Jennifer held her breath, thinking surely the man’s head would explode.

“I can’t help that, ma’am. I feel terrible about all this. I know what it will do to the girls, driving down Broadway, making a spectacle. That’s why I thought I’d take the side roads. ‘Tis the least I can do.”

Jennifer turned as Penelope descended the stairs. Her sister had donned her best gown, a sunny yellow muslin that showed off her figure fabulously. Her hair was swept up in a matronly bun that only enhanced the beauty of her angelic face. Donning her cloak, she turned toward the policeman with a whirl of her skirts. She appeared as noble as the heroine of any penny dreadful, and she extended her hands with a dramatic gesture, almost as if expecting a kiss.

“I suppose you wish to put handcuffs on me. Please try not to damage the gloves—these are my best.”

“Now, Miss Penelope, I have no intention of handcuffing any of you—”

“Oh, but you must!” Jennifer said, an idea bursting
forth in her brain. She extended her own hands. “And make sure the wagon takes all the main streets.”

“But I thought the side roads—”

“Nonsense!” Jennifer said exuberantly. “If we are to be a scandal, then let’s be a grand scandal!”

Penelope’s expression changed from hauteur to amusement as she understood Jennifer’s meaning. Even Winifred grinned as she extended her hands, waiting for the harsh cuffs. The policeman shook his head, then withdrew to the wagon and returned with three pair of shining silver handcuffs. He attached them reluctantly to the girls, then scratched his head as they marched down to the wagon, holding their poor fettered limbs aloft.

Only Aunt Eve trembled with worry. The poor woman knotted her handkerchief between her fingers, following them out to the street, unwittingly creating an even more pathetic scene.

“I can’t believe this is happening! How can you arrest innocent orphaned girls? Oh, such cruelty! There has to be something I can do, someone I can call upon, someone who will help. Winifred, dear, do we have any legal recourse?”

“I will read up on it, Auntie, don’t fear. But we do need counsel to represent us. It would probably strengthen our chances if you could fetch a solicitor.”

“Who, then, is the best?”

“Why, Charles,” Winifred said, as if surprised by the question. She followed Jennifer out to the wagon, then glanced back at her aunt. “Charles Howe.”

“Howe? Isn’t that Allison’s brother?” Aunt Eve cried.

Winifred nodded with a grin. “The very same.”

Eve stood on the sidewalk, her eyes glistening as the wagon started down the street. Already neighbors had gathered upon seeing the police wagon, and stood horrified at the outrageous display of their three lovely neighbors being led out of the house like common criminals, as they would later tell the paper. As the paddy wagon
rumbled toward the Ludlow Street jail, Jennifer looked tearful, Winifred appeared thoughtful, and Penelope waved to the gathering crowd like a princess imprisoned in her pumpkin. She blew kisses to her admirers who called out to her.

Smiling beneath her lace handkerchief, Jennifer settled back in her seat as Penelope played to the audience as if this were the finest hour of her life. “Don’t you see?” She asked Winifred, who grew even more solemn as she leafed through her law books. “We can turn this around! As they say, bad publicity is better than none. I know some of the better reporters. With a little incentive, they’ll all take up the cause of the Appletons!”

“Perhaps.” Winifred found turning pages difficult with the hard metal bracelets. When her eyes met Jennifer’s she shrugged. “I hate to be a spoilsport, but this could also ruin us. We may get out of the legal contretemps, but Aunt Eve is right. Socially, the New York elite will never forget this. They may be sympathetic now, but public opinion turns like the tide. We could find ourselves washed up.”

Jennifer’s smile faded. For once, she hoped her brilliant sister was wrong. Dead wrong.

Word had gotten out about the arrest of the Appletons before they reached the jail. By the time the wagon pulled up to Ludlow Street, a parade of supporters followed the wagon, and an even larger crowd had gathered at the jail. Men cried out “Jennifer!” or “Penelope!” as the girls exited the wagon, while the suffragettes held signs declaring “Free All Women!” A broad cheer exploded as the three beautiful women stepped into the street, followed by the burly policeman.

“There, there, move on.” The police chief tried to disperse the crowd, but to no avail. Photographers scrambled to set up tripods, and reporters pushed to the front of the group. A loud “Boo!” ensued for the police chief as he
tried to push the people back, and the reporters shouted questions at the lovely jailbirds.

“Jennifer, what do you have to say about the charges?”

“Is it true that Allison Howe, a friend of the family, filed against you?”

“Do you girls really contact the dead?”

“O’Roarke, do you think this arrest will reelect Judge Winthrop?”

The chief of police refused to answer any of their queries, but Penelope and Jennifer held court like two queens, the papers reported. Jennifer stood before the crowd, dressed as elegantly as any lady, her strange eyes flashing with passion. Her upswept burnished curls framed her face artfully, while her neat woolen cape with its demure velvet trim made her a pretty picture indeed. Penelope stood beside her, gorgeous as always, her cuffed hands waving flirtatiously. She was obviously determined to make the best of their situation, and the men especially remarked on her bravery and beauty. Winifred stood to the rear with her books, monitoring Jennifer’s speech, surveying the mood of the people.

“We Appletons violently disagree with all of these false charges that have been pressed against us! As poor orphan girls, we have no male protector, no one to save us from the slurs of those who, for their own reasons, look to discredit us. We deny any and all charges of spiritualism, of fraud, or of any other kind of solicitation!”

“Why, then, would someone press such charges?” the reporter from the
New York Sun
shouted.

Jennifer smiled, and demurely lowered her lashes. “Two reasons. As women subsisting alone, we are a threat to those dependent on others. As our own success at the stock market demonstrates, women can provide for themselves. Is not such an example frightening to women who dare not take up such a challenge?”

The suffragettes cheered. Winifred nodded, admiring
Jennifer’s skill at preaching to the choir. The suffragette influence was important to the city, and their support would be plentiful and vocal.

The reporters scribbled frantically, while more cameras clicked. One of the newspapermen glanced up. “And the other reason?”

Jennifer sighed modestly, as if reluctant to speak. A long moment passed before she shrugged her delicate shoulders resignedly.

“There are women who, perhaps, are not comfortable with what they perceive as our good looks. Both of my sisters and myself have been excluded from their society for this reason, shunned and whispered about, disdained and suspected, no matter how innocent our actions. I hate to speak of such things, but this is a story as old as womankind, I’m afraid.”

The crowd broke out in excited whispers. Speculation was rife as Jennifer delicately suggested that the complaint against them was due to jealousy. The reporters fought for more quotes, shouting to the girls, while others pressed forward, curious to learn more of the story. The police chief, tired of waiting, insisted that the girls move forward.

“That’s enough, you lads got your story and then some. I don’t want you clogging up the jail, either. Leave the ladies alone. Clear the way, now.”

Three other officers had joined them, obviously worried about the crowd. They pushed the reporters back, allowing the Appletons to walk through a path that opened like the Red Sea. They graced the path with their queenly presence, walking like Victorian Joan of Arcs toward their doom.

The papers loved it.

The crowd cheered them on, and Jennifer could hear them clearly even as the door closed behind her. As soon as they were inside, Tim insisted that the cuffs come off, and the officers bustled to do his bidding. The girls filled
out the proper forms, and were then led to a cell directly behind the office.

As Tim held the door, he looked as unhappy as if he were the father of the three women ensconced inside. Penelope watched as the door slowly closed, then burst into tears as it clanged shut.

“Oh, I can’t believe it! They really are locking us up in here! Let me out!”

“Please don’t cry, Miss Appleton.” The police chief handed her his own handkerchief. “We’ll try to make you girls as comfortable as possible until we get this resolved. I’m having a good lunch prepared by the hotel, and dinner’s been ordered from Grinnel’s, and paid for by an admirer. Has your counsel been notified?”

“Aunt Eve is summoning Charles Howe,” Winifred answered.

The police chief shook his head. “Brother against sister. Are you sure that is wise?”

Winifred nodded. “If Charles is uncomfortable taking the case himself, he will recommend someone else. I trust him completely.”

Jennifer looked at her sister strangely. Winifred, who never got emotional, spoke with an understated passion that betrayed her depth of feeling. Jennifer just hoped that in this case she was right.

“What? The three girls arrested? By whom?” Charles Howe nearly leaped out of his chair as Aunt Eve stood before him like a worried fairy godmother, her blue-white head nodding urgently.

“The chief of police. He is such a nice man, and he didn’t want to do it, but he had no choice. I can’t believe it! They led my girls away in handcuffs, as if they were murderers! I was nearly beside myself as they were forced into that dreadful wagon! Every time I think of them, shut
away in that cell …” Eve’s voice was filled with tears. “I didn’t know what to do. Winifred suggested I come to you.”

“She did right.” Charles swore as he threw a ream of papers into his case, then reached for his walking stick. “You don’t happen to know what the charges are, and who filed a complaint?”

“Yes, I believe I do. They were charged with charlatan spiritualism, and solicitation, all utter nonsense if you ask me. As if someone could summon a ghost! The complaint, unfortunately, was signed by … your sister.”

“Allison?” Charles stopped dead in his tracks. “Allison complained against the girls? Why? She is barely acquainted with Jennifer! I don’t understand.”

Aunt Eve shook her head despondently. “Penny said something about her being upset about Mr. Forester’s relationship with Jennifer. I don’t know this for a fact, of course.” She looked at the lawyer pityingly.

Charles’s face turned hard. His mouth twisted angrily, and fire sparked in his dark gaze. When he spoke, it was with much strain. “Unfortunately, I can well believe that. Allison has always been spoiled and inclined to get her own way. I have warned her in the past about declaring Gabriel’s feelings publicly before he spoke to her himself, but I know she’s done just that. She’s probably afraid of looking like a fool if he cares for someone else, especially Jennifer. Wait until I get my hands on her.”

His grip tightened on the case as if he had to fight to control himself from hitting something. Aunt Eve nodded tremulously.

“Will you go to the jail, then, and see that the girls are released? I have some money put away for their weddings that I suppose I could use for bail and to pay your fees. I was hoping to see the girls happily married someday …” Aunt Eve trailed off as her voice became choked with
tears. No one needed to tell her that the girls’ chances of making a good match had become nil.