Scandal on Rincon Hill (16 page)

“I know you're right, but— At the very least, we have to do what we can to ensure that she's protected from Gerald Knight's thugs.”

“All right, I agree that providing for her safety would be an admirable idea,” Samuel said with feeling. “And while we're about it, why don't we protect the thousands of other homeless women and children living from hand to mouth in this city?”

“Samuel, Brielle Bouchard is more than just a faceless statistic to me. I've met her. I've seen her beautiful little daughter. I cannot bring myself to abandon them without doing everything possible to help.”

Samuel sat back in his seat and gave a long sigh. “Of course you can't. It simply isn't in your nature to give up without a fight. I suppose I just wanted to state the realities of the situation, on the off chance you might actually listen to your big brother for a change.”

Pulling out his fob watch, he looked at the time. “I have to be on my way. I'm supposed to be at the Talbots' home by three o'clock, and I have to make a quick stop at the newspaper before going home to pack.”

He rose from the table and reached for the check, then looked down at me until I raised my face and met his eyes.

“I know what you mean to do, Sarah,” he said, his voice sober. “But I insist that you keep your promise. Do not pay a visit to Madam Valentine's parlor house, or any other brothel for that matter, alone. Do you agree?”

Realizing he would worry all weekend if I did not accede to this demand, I grudgingly nodded.

“Good,” he declared. “I'll see you on Monday, then.”

A
fter Samuel walked me back to my office, I spent an hour or two reading through several of the law books I kept in
my library, then found myself at sixes and sevens. Without something tangible to occupy my mind, I was unable to concentrate on anything besides Brielle Bouchard and her impossible situation.

I still had a difficult time accepting that she would take refuge in a bordello, even the fashionable one Samuel described. It was sad enough to contemplate a woman trading her body for a comfortable home and a generous weekly allowance.

To my mind, it was infinitely worse to take a different man to your bed every night—perhaps more than just one! For a woman as beautiful and refined as Brielle it seemed little less than a tragedy. And the baby! What kind of life would it be for a child growing up in a brothel?

By half past four, I was on tenterhooks and decided to leave the office for the day. I told myself that anything was better than pacing the floor until I wore a groove in it.

I was just gathering up my things to leave, when there was a knock on the door. Pulling it open, I found a street urchin standing on the landing, his face smudged with dirt, hair so mussed it resembled a mop, and with a worn burlap bag slung over his bony shoulder.

“You Miss Woolson?” he asked. At my nod, he said, “Got a message for ya, miss.”

He dug into the bag and presented me with a sealed white envelope. It was fine quality paper, and my name was neatly written upon its face. I recognized the script at once. The missive was from Pierce Godfrey.

“The feller what gave this to me said he'd be obliged if You'd send him back an answer,” the boy added. “He said I was to run yer message back to him full chisel.”

Requesting the boy to wait, I slit open the envelope and read:

For a moment I was not certain how to respond to this unexpected invitation. On the one hand, I am a great admirer of the theater, and particularly of the works of Shakespeare. On the other hand, I had no wish to lead Pierce to believe I had changed my mind concerning our relationship.

“Miss, I got a lot more letters to deliver,” the boy complained impatiently, as I stood pondering what to do.

“Yes, of course.” Realizing I must come to a decision, I impulsively reached for a pen and paper and accepted Pierce's invitation with my thanks. I went on to request that he pick me up here at the office, rather than at my home.

Sealing the envelope, I handed it to the boy along with a coin for his services. He regarded the money, then grinned up at me, displaying several cracked teeth.

“Thanks, miss,” he said, already turning back to the stairs. “I'll get this right back to the gent.”

At least, I thought, as I stood in a queue on the corner waiting for the public horsecar line, Mama need not know that I would be seeing Pierce again so soon. Of course, it meant that I would have to bring a suitable change of costume to my office the following morning, and engage Eddie's services.

Thinking of the lad gave me a sudden idea. I had promised Samuel that I would not pay a call on Madam Valentine's parlor house alone,
not
that I would entirely refrain from visiting the establishment. I felt immediately uplifted by this plan. All might yet work out to my satisfaction.

Instead of going directly home, I transferred to a cable car on Franklin Street which would take me to Laine Carriages, where Eddie was employed as a driver. Now that I had formulated a plan,
I hardly noticed the dreary weather as I departed the cable car and briskly walked the last two blocks to the cab company.

As it turned out, Eddie wasn't at the terminus. Undeterred, I penciled a quick message, making sure to print in neat characters—although the boy's reading skills had greatly improved over the past few months, he still experienced difficulty reading cursive—instructing him to pick me up at my home tomorrow morning at eight o'clock. He was not to come to the door, I told him, but to wait for me discreetly down the street, hopefully away from my mother's observant eyes. From there we would drop my evening clothes off at my office, pick up the paperwork I had completed for Robert, then proceed directly to Joseph Shepard's law firm. Sealing this missive inside an envelope, I handed it over to the care of the office clerk to deliver to Eddie when he came in from his day's work.

As I exited the omnibus and walked the short block to my home, I suddenly wondered what I would do if Robert were not available to accompany me to Madam Valentine's brothel the following morning. I had to smile as the answer came to me immediately. It would be a good deal less than ideal, but at least I would not have to break the silly promise I had given Samuel at lunch. If all else failed, Eddie would go with me, of course.

Satisfied that I had duly considered all aspects of my little plan, I opened the front door and entered my home.

I
n the end, I was forced to enlist Celia's assistance in slipping out of the house unnoticed the following morning. Naturally, my mother was accustomed to seeing me depart for my office before eight o'clock, however, I had never done so carrying an evening gown—wrapped in a garment sheet—a hat suitable for the opera house, as well as a change of shoes, jewelry, and some personal items which would be required to dress my hair.

Dear Celia carried out her part of the subterfuge to perfection, asking Mama to care for baby Charlie while she saw that Tom and Mandy were fed and dressed for the day. Charles and Celia employed a most capable nanny, Mary Douglas, to care for the children, but Celia delighted in attending to many of her offsprings' daily routines herself. Consequently, Mama sensed nothing suspicious when asked to rock and soothe her precious new grandson, a charge she was more than happy to fulfill.

It was lightly raining when I exited the house, but as I had instructed, I found Eddie waiting with the brougham halfway down the block. He grinned broadly as he jumped down, took my belongings, and laid them out neatly on one of the two carriage seats which comprised the double brougham.

“Are we workin' on a new case, then, Miss Sarah?” he eagerly inquired, eyeing the items he'd just arranged with intense curiosity. “I knew somethin' was up when yer note said I was to wait fer you down the street and not in front of yer house like usual.”

I was at a momentary loss as to how to explain the situation to the boy, without explaining my mother's keen interest in my social life.

“I'm going to the theater tonight, Eddie,” I explained, as he assisted me into the carriage. “Since I won't have time to come home after work, I thought it would be easier to change my garments at the office.”

Eddie's face fell. “Dang it all, anyway. I thought maybe we was investigatin' them murders you and Mister Samuel was talkin' about the other day. You know, them two fellers what got their heads bashed in.”

“No, Eddie,” I told him, cringing at the all too vivid picture this brought to mind. “However, we do have several errands to run after we drop these things off at my office.” I refrained from explaining that if Robert were in court, he would be playing a much more prominent role in the morning events than I found comfortable. “Please take me there first.”

“Righto,” he called out, closing the carriage door and bolting up onto the driver's seat.

“Oh, and Eddie,” I called out to him. “I would appreciate it if you would deliver us there in one piece, if you please!”

As usual, the lad mostly ignored my admonition to drive in a safe and sane manner, and we arrived at my Sutter Street office far quicker than I would have liked. After we had taken the clothes upstairs and hung them in my back room library, I gathered up the papers I had completed for Robert, and instructed Eddie to take us to Joseph Shepard's offices, which were located on Clay and Kearny streets.

The rain was coming down in sheets as Eddie reined in his dappled-gray horse in front of the familiar building where I had
toiled as associate attorney for the first nine months of my legal career. Instructing the boy to stay with the carriage, I made my way quickly through the downpour and entered the lobby.

Utilizing Elisha Otis's hydraulic lift, or “rising room” as they were generally called, I exited at the sixth floor and walked to the imposing oak door engraved with the name Shepard, Shepard, McNaughton, and Hall. I paused for a moment to straighten my suit, then opened the door and marched boldly inside.

Hubert Perkins, the annoying little clerk who guarded the door like a fire-spewing dragon, looked up to frown as I dared to invade his hallowed territory. Mr. Perkins and I had never seen eye to eye on a variety of subjects, including his disdain for any woman presumptuous enough to consider herself an attorney. The few times I had encountered him since terminating my employment at Shepard's firm had done nothing to improve our relationship. If anything, he invariably greeted me as if I were carrying the Black Plague with me.

“Good morning, Mr. Perkins,” I said, not bothering to summon up a smile. “Is Mr. Campbell in this morning, or is he still in court?”

“He is in, Miss Woolson, but unless you have an appointment I fear it is impossible for you to—”

Paying no heed to the man's sputtering protests, I sailed past his desk without further comment. Head held high, I marched down the hall toward the closet-sized room that had once been my office, and which now belonged to my friend and colleague.

“Good heavens,” Robert exclaimed, as I knocked once then entered the room. “Sarah, what are you doing here?”

“I'm delighted to find that you are not in court this morning, Robert,” I said, handing him the paperwork I had recently completed. “I assume that Mr. Lansing has sufficiently recovered to rejoin Mr. Shepard as second chair?”

“Yes, but why—”

“I have come to request a favor,” I interrupted, not wishing to remain in this claustrophobic room one minute longer than necessary.
I removed Robert's long coat from a hook behind his desk and handed it to him. “Since Mr. Shepard is out of the office, he cannot object if you accompany me on a brief errand.”

He stared at me in openmouthed astonishment. “What are you going on about? I have been out of the office for two days. I have work to do.”

“I appreciate that, Robert, which is why I'm prepared to help you to complete it, at no charge, of course.” I crossed to his desk and began thumbing through the array of papers spread out untidily in every direction. “In return, I would appreciate it if you would give me an hour of your time, perhaps two at the outside.”

“To do what?” he demanded. “Dash it all, woman, I can't just up and leave the office because you've gotten some crazy bee in your bonnet. And for God's sake, stop rummaging through my papers!”

It took me only a few minutes to pack some of the work into a folder and tie the clasp.

“The Tanner file must be finished by the close of business today,” Robert protested. “Shepard expects it on his desk when he returns from court.”

“Don't worry, Robert,” I promised. “It will be ready by four this afternoon. Now please put on your coat. Eddie is downstairs waiting in the brougham.”

A
s was his habit, Eddie drove with his usual breakneck abandon, but for once I was actually grateful. It served to take Robert's mind off where we were headed. In fact, we were within three blocks of our destination before he relaxed his grip on the seat, and finally seemed to take notice of the neighborhood.

“Where are we going, anyway?” he asked, looking out the carriage window.

“You'll see in a moment,” I answered evasively. “we're almost there.”

He stared at me suspiciously. “I don't like that look in your eye.”

I pretended to gaze at the shops we were passing, and with a soft harrumph, he fell silent. When Eddie reined up in front of the address Samuel had given me for Madam Valentine's parlor house, I was relieved to see that it looked little different from other houses lining the street. Like its neighbors, it had probably been built sometime in the late sixties or early seventies. It took up much of the narrow lot, and was constructed mainly of wood, with a goodly number of slat-sided bay windows and, in my opinion, far too much exterior ornamentation. It appeared, however—at least from the outside—to be a perfectly respectable residence, and I wondered if Samuel could have inadvertently given me an incorrect address.