Katie Rose (36 page)

“Will you be going back to performing séance rituals?”

“Have you girls ever truly seen a ghost?”

Jennifer shrank back from the exploding lights. With as much dignity as she could muster, she answered the reporters calmly.

“We have done nothing wrong. Miss Howe’s withdrawal of her complaint proves just that.”

The reporters all scribbled furiously in their notepads, and fired more questions. Jennifer answered them in the
same resigned voice, until finally, the police chief waved his beefy hand.

“All right, lads, that’s enough. Miss Appleton has some papers to complete. Clear the room.”

The reporters grumbled and left, most of them more than satisfied with the firsthand scoop. Jennifer joined her sisters, who hugged her enthusiastically.

“Isn’t it wonderful? Allison withdrew,” Penelope said cheerfully. “We won’t have to go to court after all, although I was dying to wear my new winter velvet. I thought it would look nice for the papers.”

Winifred stared at Jennifer, then spoke sharply to Penelope. “I don’t think Jenny is interested in hearing about your dress. And just because we don’t have to go to court, I think this is far from over. Unfortunately, there is a good chance that the scandal will ruin us. When word gets out that we’ve been jailed, no one will want anything to do with us. I’m afraid the worst of our troubles are still ahead.”

Penelope pooh-poohed her words, but Jennifer and Winifred exchanged glances, both of them knowing that Winifred was right. They would be tried before a real jury of their peers: society. And neither had any doubt as to the outcome.

When Jennifer, Winifred, and Penelope returned home, they couldn’t dissuade Aunt Eve from ordering hot baths immediately, and having a huge breakfast prepared. All three girls tried to tell Eve that they had been well fed and cared for, but poor Aunt Eve obviously envisioned her doves as being tortured in prison and wouldn’t hear of anything other than pampering them.

“I’ve been so worried about you! Good heavens, cooped up like ruffians in that horrible prison! I couldn’t sleep a wink last night. All I could picture was my little
lambs, locked away like street trash! I’m so glad you’re home.”

Jennifer smiled wanly, finishing her pancakes as her hair dried by the fire. It did feel good to be home again, among her own familiar comforts, but she felt more than a little guilty where her aunt was concerned. She and Winnie had again expressed their apologies, which Eve simply brushed aside, but hearing that the old woman had spent a sleepless night on their behalf didn’t help much.

The restless ache in her heart didn’t subside as the day wore on. Winifred buried herself in law briefs, delighted that the police chief had let her take a mountain of old case histories as long as she returned them within the week. Enthralled with reading about real-life convictions, she was unapproachable for the better part of the day.

Penelope primped and played with her dresses and her perfumes, glad to be back among her own things. She had felt their stay in the jail was simply an adventure, and she refused to believe any of Winifred’s dire warnings. Penelope was sure everything would sort itself out, and she didn’t tire her mind in thinking about any other possibility.

Finding no refuge in her sister’s cheerful presence, Jennifer took a book up to her room and tried to distract herself, but the persistent heaviness in her heart would not leave her. Finally, she gave into everything churning inside of her and flung herself onto the bed, crying her heart out.

A timid knock sounded on the door a few minutes later. Jennifer quickly straightened, then wiped her face, not wanting to worry anyone. “Come in,” she called, expecting to see Penelope. Instead, Aunt Eve entered the room, carrying a pot of tea and two china cups.

“I thought you might want a little something,” her aunt said, softly setting the tray on the table and pouring out a hot cup. “It always seems to help me.”

“Thank you, Auntie.” Jennifer choked back tears, then
sipped the steaming brew. The tea was difficult to swallow at first, but gradually she managed and found that it did help.

Aunt Eve poured her own cup and the two women, one old, the other young, sat side by side. Jennifer tried to retain her composure, but when her aunt put her hand comfortingly on her back, Jennifer broke. Sobs wracked her, and the older woman held her tightly.

“That’s right, my dear, get it out. It isn’t good to hold so much pain inside.”

“Auntie, I feel so wretched!” Jennifer exclaimed, turning into the older woman’s shoulder. Her aunt felt comforting, and smelled good, like lavender. Her lace collar scratched Jennifer’s face, but even that was reassuring, reminding her that some things really didn’t change. For a moment, Jennifer thought of her mother, a memory she had successfully buried because it was simply too painful. Now, she realized, she missed her terribly. “I know you wanted me to marry Gabriel, but I just couldn’t. Auntie, he doesn’t love me the way … a husband should,” she continued, wiping fiercely at her eyes. “Dear heaven, if I could just stop crying!”

“It’s all right, dear. It just amazes me how little the world has changed.”

There was an odd wisdom in her aunt’s voice, and for all the times she’d appeared befuddled, she didn’t seem that way at all now. Jennifer lifted her face and tried to explain.

“He can’t accept me, really accept me,” she continued. “I was so hoping that eventually he would! But he only asked me to marry him out of duty. I am not the kind of woman Gabriel really wants.”

“I see,” Aunt Eve said softly, smoothing the hair from Jennifer’s face. “So you think he feels nothing for you? That he was only being noble, asking you to wed?”

Jennifer thought for a moment. “I think he does care for me,” she said slowly. “But I want more than that. He hates what I do, and would always feel embarrassed by it. I know it must have come as a shock to you as well, to know that we were really … what I mean is—”

“Spiritualists,” Eve said it for her.

“Yes,” Jennifer breathed. “I don’t expect him to accept all of that completely, but I don’t know what he thinks we should have done. We needed the money: It was as simple as that.”

Eve nodded quietly. “Men like Gabriel who are born to a certain amount of wealth never truly grasp what it is like to be hungry. I have to admit, I didn’t either until after your uncle died. Jenny, I have watched you since you were a little girl. You always had talent and ability, and you were a survivor. You could easily have knuckled under, with the weight of responsibility that fell on your shoulders, but you didn’t do that. You used your talent, and found a way to help all of us. Surely Gabriel can’t fault you for that.”

Jennifer sighed. “I should think not, but I don’t believe he really understands. How could he?”

Eve smiled softly. “I think your Gabriel has more character than you give him credit for. Give him time, my dear, and he’ll come around. There are always compromises, when two people really care for each other. And this conversation has shown me one thing.”

“What’s that?” Jennifer looked at her fondly.

“That you are certainly in love with Gabriel. Otherwise his opinion wouldn’t matter to you in the least.”

Jennifer smiled, then wiped her face clear of tears. When she looked up, she saw her aunt watching her with a kindness and knowledge that perplexed her. A sudden, disturbing thought came to her and she had to know the truth. “Aunt Eve, did you know all of this all along? About Gabriel and the séances, I mean?”

Eve smiled, her dim eyes brightening with pleasure. “Well, of course, my dear. Sometimes it’s rather nice to be taken for old and senile.” When Jennifer looked at her in astonishment, her aunt laughed softly in a conspiratorial manner. “You can get away with murder.”

“Are you sure? There aren’t any other postings for us?” Penelope practically scolded the mail boy, rummaging through the few pitiful letters that had arrived at the door.

The young lad scuffed the curb, then turned soulful eyes toward the beautiful woman. “Sorry, miss, but that’s all there is. I asked ’specially, like you said, but the postman said that’s it. There’s one for you, though,” the boy said hopefully, as if that would make it all right.

“I see. Thank you.” Penelope pressed a coin in the boy’s hand, then reentered the house with as much dignity as she could. Once inside, away from prying eyes on the street, she glanced at the letter addressed to her.

It was expensive stationery, creamy white and smooth to the touch. Penelope frowned as she examined the scrawling hand, but the writing was only vaguely familiar. Eagerly, she tore the missive open, hoping it was an invitation to a ball or a simple dance, but when she saw the contents, her heart squeezed painfully.

“My Dear Miss Appleton,” it began. “I was very sorry to hear about your misadventure. What a terrible thing, to
send three young ladies to jail! The New York police must have very little to do these days.

“Unfortunately, I must withdraw my invitation to dine with you on Thursday at the Hamiltons’. I’m sure you understand that it would be wrong for me to continue to see you under the present circumstances. It isn’t myself that I am concerned for, but I have to think of my daughter, and what a scandal would do to her. I am truly sorry, and wish you only the best …”

It was signed, “James McBride.” Penelope felt her hands begin to tremble and she cried out sharply. Tears started, almost of their own accord, and she stared through blurred eyes at the paper, unable to believe what she was reading.

“Dear! Whatever is the matter?” Aunt Eve came to her side and Penelope thrust the missive into her dress.

“Nothing,” Penelope said, determinedly wiping her face. When Eve frowned, Penelope simply pointed to the other envelope the post boy had brought. “I was just disappointed that we didn’t get any other mail. We haven’t received an invitation in weeks, not to a winter dinner, a ball, or even a plain old gathering. I can’t believe it!”

The parrot squawked in complaint, and the cat purred, wandering beneath the cage restlessly. Winifred looked up from the fireplace, where she sat with Charles Howe.

“Penelope, what did you think was going to happen? Did you really assume society would just forget everything, after our incarceration and the resulting scandal? Unfortunately, while Allison withdrew her formal complaint, she has been very vocal about attacking us publicly. The suffragettes, once sympathetic to us, have turned away, as have the church and the women’s groups.”

Charles blushed at the mention of his sister. “I am deeply sorry about Allison, but what Winifred says is true. In spite of my warnings, she is still spreading gossip about you girls, more to appease her own ego than anything
else. She can’t find it in her heart to forgive Gabriel for what she considers his betrayal, and has made you girls the scapegoats.”

“It’s nothing that we didn’t expect,” Jennifer said, folding the paper. She smiled at Charles, pleased that since their jailing, he had become a frequent visitor. Part of it was to show his support for the girls, since his sister was determined to destroy them, but Jennifer hoped Winifred was also part of the reason.

“Actually, it is worse than we anticipated,” Jennifer said. “Listen to this: ‘New Revelations About Appleton Girls: Church calls Jennifer Appleton the Mother of Evil.’ ”

“Such nonsense!” Eve said emphatically. “Why, I told the ladies at the Women’s Church Society that they could just do without my embroidery if they continued to blaspheme you.”

“My mother is also trying to influence her sewing circle and Ladies’ Association,” Charles said quickly, clearly eager to make amends for his sister. “She is making sure that any charitable works done by you girls, monies you’ve donated, and food that you’ve given to the poor, gets proper credit.”

“And the police chief is doing his best to squelch any legal gossip that comes up,” Winifred noted. “But I have to admit, none of this is really having much of an impact. Everything I feared has come to pass. Good women cross the street when they see us. Their daughters are afraid to acknowledge us, even if they wanted to, and their sons avoid us like the plague. Socially, the Appletons are ruined.”

There was a long pause after Winifred’s dire words. Penelope looked around the room, then burst into tears, truly despondent. Jennifer rose and stood beside her, stroking her head and attempting to comfort her, but Penelope was beside herself.

“We’ll never get back in! We are destroyed! Who will court me?” Penelope asked plaintively. “None of the good men would dare defy everyone to seek me out! I’ll be a spinster forever!”

Penelope dashed out of the room and ran upstairs. They could hear the pathetic tap of her little boots as she reached her room, then slammed the door shut. Jennifer sighed, then looked up at her aunt, and saw the reality that she’d been trying to hide from: They really were ruined. Not just for suitors, as Penelope said, but in every way. Business had fallen off sharply, and Jennifer knew the reason. People were starting to question whether séances and card readings really were the work of the devil. As ridiculous as that assumption was, it was enough to scare prospective customers.