Scandal on Rincon Hill (18 page)

“I'm not sure I would label Brielle a ‘painted lady,’ Robert,” I said, keeping my eyes on the woman. “The gentleman Miss Bouchard would like to sue for breach of contract, Madam Valentine, is evidently little Emma's father.”

The woman remained silent, not to be rushed. She stood tall and straight-backed before us, very much in charge of the situation. Her dark eyes continued to regard us with silent amusement as they traveled from the top of my hat, over the neat knot of hair pinned to the nape of my neck, and down the length of my business suit until they reached my polished boots.

After she had thoroughly studied my companion in the same bold manner—to his considerable discomfort—she nodded toward a red velvet sofa, indicating that we should take a seat. It was only after she had lowered herself, back still erect, onto one of the red velvet armchairs, that she finally spoke.

“I apologize for not recognizing you sooner, Miss Woolson.
You are the attorney who represented that Gypsy psychic who was accused of murder several months ago, are you not?”

“I am,” I answered, attempting to hide my surprise that she was familiar with the case. I tended to forget that my picture had been featured on the front page of every newspaper in town after the murderous affair at the Cliff House.

“I read about you in the newspaper,” she explained. confirming my suspicions. “As I recall, I showed the article to Brielle. That must be why she consulted you.”

“She didn't tell you that she planned to seek my advice?”

“No, but then Brielle is not a girl who easily shares her thoughts,” the woman replied. “For one so young, she is remarkably independent.”

“Yes, that was my impression exactly,” I said. “She is also strikingly beautiful. I can well understand why Mr. Knight found her so captivating. Are you acquainted with the gentleman, Madam Valentine?”

Again, the woman hesitated before replying. “If Brielle did not confide the circumstances of her relationship with the gentleman, I must respect her wishes and let her decide if she cares to go into more detail.”

She rose to her feet, once more demonstrating considerable grace for a woman of such generous proportions. “I'll have one of the maids inform her that you are here, Miss Woolson. It will, of course, be up to her to decide whether or not she chooses to speak to you.”

With that she swept out of the room and I heard her footsteps as she ascended the stairs to the second floor. The minute she was out of earshot, Robert stood as well, reaching out a hand to me.

“Get up, Sarah,” he said urgently. “We must leave this house before she returns. I can't believe you tricked me into coming to such a place. You have finally gone too far. Even for you!”

“Don't be absurd, Robert, of course we're not leaving. I came here to find Brielle Bouchard. Now that I have, I must make certain that she is all right.”

“This house is no place for a lady, Sarah. What would your parents
think if they knew you were in a—in an establishment of this sort? Good God! What would your father say if he knew I'd actually accompanied you here?”

“He would be extremely angry with you, of course,” I answered calmly. “The point is that he doesn't have to know. I certainly have no plans to tell him. And if you care whether or not you ever win a case in his courtroom, I'd advise you not to speak of it, either. Now be reasonable and sit down. I hear someone coming.”

Robert looked nervously toward the foyer, as if fearful the gaggle of girls might have returned to continue their teasing. He must have seen someone approaching, for he fairly darted back to the sofa, sinking as deeply into the cushions as his tall, muscular frame would allow.

I turned in my seat and was rewarded to see Brielle Bouchard enter the parlor, closely followed by Madam Valentine. The young woman was wearing a simple blue cotton day dress. Her soft blond hair appeared to have been hastily arranged, and she wore no jewelry. Despite the casualness of her attire, her beauty nearly took my breath away.

From beside me I heard Robert gasp, and knew that he, too, was struck by her perfection. In fact, he had risen to his feet so abruptly at her entrance, you would have thought the queen of England herself had just walked into the room.

“Good morning, Miss Woolson,” the angel in blue said, coming to stand before me and holding out her hand. “I did not expect to see you here. You have the entire house in an uproar.”

Her striking blue eyes moved to Robert's tall figure, causing him to flush slightly. He quickly forced an artificial cough to mask his embarrassment, but I noticed that he continued to eye the girl from over the broad hand he had placed over his mouth.

I introduced Brielle to my flustered companion, hiding a smile as the gruff Scot practically melted like warm butter as she took his proffered hand.

Appraising him with frank interest, she laughed. “The girls are right, Mr. Campbell, you are completely charming. I rather think
it is your friend who has set the house aflutter, Miss Woolson. He is quite as handsome as they described. And see how prettily he blushes. It is irresistible, quite a change from the gentlemen who normally visit this house.

Now,” she continued, sinking into the chair recently vacated by Madam Valentine. “What business has brought you here, Miss Woolson? And how on earth did you find me?”

M
adam Valentine sank gracefully into a second red velvet armchair. Reaching into a pocket hidden within the folds of her robe, she pulled out a long, intricately carved ivory cigarette holder. She casually selected a cigarette from a gold case lying on one of the polished wood end tables, fixed it into the holder and lit it with a match, inhaling deeply with obvious satisfaction.

Robert dropped back down beside me on the sofa. I noted with some interest that he no longer seemed intent on fleeing the house while we still could. In fact, he had not taken his eyes off Brielle since she'd stepped inside the parlor.

“It is good to see you again, Miss Bouchard,” I said with a smile. “I trust little Emma is well?”

“She is, indeed,” replied the girl in her sweet, cultured voice. “She has become quite the darling of the house. It won't be long, I fear, before she is thoroughly spoiled.”

Again, I received the impression that Brielle had been gently raised and well educated. I longed to learn more about her, but realized I could not rush the matter. It was best to take my time and first gain her trust.

“I am delighted to hear that,” I said. “When you failed to keep
your appointment Wednesday morning, I worried what might have happened to keep you away.”

Her face clouded, and she glanced nervously at Madam Valentine. Before she could invent an excuse, I hurried on, “I should tell you that I know about the two men who accosted you outside my office. My downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Goodman, saw what happened and was concerned for your safety.”

A startled expression crossed the girl's face, before she quickly regained her composure. “Mrs. Goodman seems quite an agreeable woman, but I fear she misinterpreted the incident. It's true that I was on my way to see you, Miss Woolson, but I simply changed my mind.”

“Or had it changed for you,” Robert put in, his voice edged with anger. “Why are you protecting those hooligans, Miss Bouchard? If you know their names you must tell us. I would like to personally throttle them both for frightening you in such a manner.”

Brielle's smile was forced. “I'm sure you could make a good job of it, too, Mr. Campbell. However, I fear I don't know their names. I never saw those men before.”

She was not a good liar and her frightened eyes betrayed her. I felt certain that she did know the men who had confronted her. At the very least, she knew the identity of the individual who had hired the two ruffians.

“Come now, Miss Bouchard,” I said, “you must be forthright with us, if we are to help you. Are those men associates of Mr. Knight? Perhaps when he discovered you were seeing an attorney he feared you might find a legal way to redress his deplorable conduct, and sent the men to frighten you.”

“Miss Woolson is right, Brielle,” Madam Valentine put in. “Gerald Knight is a brute, and you know it. Visiting Miss Woolson on your own was rash and dangerous. You should have told me of your plan to consult an attorney, and allowed me to go with you. I might have been of some help.”

Brielle slowly shook her head, setting her blond curls bouncing
about her lovely face. “How could you help me, Madam Valentine? I know you mean well, and I am deeply indebted to you for all your help, but how can any woman stand up to a man like Gerald Knight? I considered myself so clever when I coerced him into signing a contract before I agreed to become his mistress.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Now I realize how foolish I was to believe I could ever protect myself from any man, much less one who wields so much power and influence in the city. After nearly two years, all I am left with is a worthless piece of paper.”

“But you lived up to that contract in every respect,” protested Madam Valentine, angrily snubbing out her cigarette in a cut-glass ashtray. “We both know that Gerald Knight had that house watched day and night. He probably has the name of every person who ever visited you on Pacific Avenue.”

Brielle's face lit with sudden hope. “Yes, that's true, he did—I had forgotten. Miss Woolson, can we not use that information to prove that I was faithful to Mr. Knight, and to our contract?”

“I can vouch for the fact that Brielle was an innocent when she went to live with that man,” Madam Valentine declared. “I had her examined by my personal physician. All my girls must undergo this inspection before they are allowed to join my house.”

While this precaution appeared to me to be perfectly reasonable, even essential given the nature of the business, I felt Robert stiffen beside me on the sofa. Sensing that he was about to speak, I nodded for Madam Valentine to continue before he said something we might both regret.

“Before my young ladies are permitted to entertain a gentleman,” the older woman went on, “it is necessary that I first ensure that they are healthy and free from disease. Next, they must be fitted for a new wardrobe, including undergarments and gowns. They are then schooled in how to deport themselves befitting the standards of this house, how to dress their hair, enhance their faces, and, most importantly, become skilled in the art of seduction.”

“I see.” Although I could not approve the purpose of this training, it was impossible not to admire her thoroughness. “If Brielle
was being prepared to work in your parlor house, Madam Valentine, how did she happen to forge a personal relationship with Mr. Knight?”

Madam Valentine sniffed, as if in disapproval. “I personally do not approve of Mr. Knight. He is arrogant, demanding, and the worst kind of hypocrite. I have read a number of his articles extolling family values, only to witness him blatantly carousing with my girls that same evening.”

She paused to insert another cigarette into her ivory holder, lit it, then continued. “However, Gerald Knight is one of our best clients, so naturally no effort is spared to please him. As it happens, he caught sight of Brielle one evening when we were shorthanded, and she was carrying a bottle of champagne to one of the bedrooms. He was immediately smitten, and demanded that I introduce him to her straightaway. When I explained that Miss Bouchard was but newly arrived, and had not yet commenced her duties, he was delighted, declaring that if she was as innocent as I claimed, he would take her as his new mistress.”

“He took your word for her, er, innocence?” I asked.

Once again, Madam Valentine sniffed. “He did not. I told him she had already been examined by a doctor, but nothing would do but that she be seen by his own physician.”

“And this satisfied him?” I asked.

“It did,” she replied. “The following day he sent men to fetch Brielle and bring her to the house on Pacific Avenue.”

“From that day onward, my every move was watched,” put in Brielle. “I was aware that the maids were providing Gerald with regular reports on how I spent my days and who visited. When I left the house, I was always accompanied by a servant, or one of his men.”

“There, you see it is just as I said,” said Madam Valentine, a note of triumph in her voice. “Is there no way we can use his own precautions to prove that this unfortunate girl did not break the contract?”

“We might, if the men who kept her under surveillance were
impartial witnesses,” I replied, wishing I could be more hopeful. “But as you pointed out, they were in Mr. Knight's employ. They would undoubtedly swear to anything he asked them to say.”

“That is exactly what they would do,” Brielle agreed, her voice taking on a note of bitterness. “I came to realize the hopelessness of my situation even before Gerald's men stopped me outside Miss Woolson's office. Their threats of violence toward me—and even toward you, Miss Woolson—convinced me of how futile it would be to go forward with the lawsuit.”

“They threatened Miss Woolson?” exclaimed Robert, once again jumping up from his seat. “That settles it. If you know the identities of these scoundrels, Miss Bouchard, you have an obligation to tell us. Their threats must be reported to the police. Immediately!”

“Please, Robert,” I said, reaching up to take hold of his sleeve. “Sit down. Brielle is correct, we're dealing with a shrewd and unscrupulous man. We must tread with care.”

“Care be damned!” Agitated, he stepped away from the sofa and out of my grasp. “This Knight fellow has sent his hoodlums to frighten a helpless girl. He even has the gall to threaten you, Sarah. He cannot be allowed to get away with such villainy.”

Madam Valentine gave a deep sigh. “Please, Mr. Campbell, do sit down. Miss Woolson is correct in advising caution. Even if Brielle did report the matter to the police, it would be her word against those two men. And Knight has powerful connections within the police department. It would be an exercise in futility.”

“Sarah's neighbor, Mrs. Goodman, saw them accost the girl,” persisted Robert. “Surely she could act as a witness.”

“Did this Mrs. Goodman hear what the men said to Brielle?” inquired Madam Valentine.