Scandal on Rincon Hill (21 page)

“Come in,” I finally managed, giving Robert a warning look as I rose from my chair.

The door opened, and Pierce strode into the room. He did not appear surprised to find Robert standing in front of my desk, his broad face glaring at him like a thundercloud. Pierce's composed and doggedly fixed expression led me to believe that he had overheard some of Robert's angry harangue from outside the door.

“Sarah,” Pierce said, smiling as his eyes ran appreciatively over my gown and hat. “You look exquisite, as always.” His smile faded as he turned to Robert, acknowledging his presence with a terse, “Good evening, Campbell.”

“Good evening,” Robert responded with equal curtness.

I could tell by the pained look on Robert's broad face that he was trying to smile at Pierce, but the effort fell far short of its mark; if anything, it had the unfortunate effect of making the Scot appear as if he were suffering a painful toothache. Neither man proffered his hand to the other, as common courtesy dictated.

“Are you ready, Sarah?” Pierce inquired, his dark eyes in no way mirroring his pleasant demeanor.

“Yes, I am.” I left my desk and started for the back room. “Just let me get my wrap.”

It took me but a moment to fetch my cape and rabbit hair muff. Returning to my office, I allowed Pierce to help me on with my cloak. Standing, arms folded, in front of my desk, Robert silently glowered at us both.

I had reached the end of my patience with this rude, and entirely
uncalled-for, behavior; it did not deserve to be acknowledged. Turning my back on my exasperating colleague, I swept through the door Pierce held open for me. As I left, I threw over my shoulder, “Please ensure that the door is properly latched when you leave, Robert.”

Closing the door firmly behind us, Pierce followed me down the stairs and assisted me into his waiting carriage.

T
he Baldwin Theater was filled to near capacity for the opening night of Shakespeare's comedy,
The Merry Wives of Windsor
. Comfortably seated in Pierce's proscenium box, we had a clear view of the nearly two thousand patrons seated below us in plush red upholstered seats—which, paradoxically, reminded me of the sofas and chairs featured in Madam Valentine's brothel. The theater boasted velvet hangings, filigree decorations on pillars and walls, as well as rich tapestries and paintings on display in the lobby and adjoining saloons, where theatergoers could refresh themselves during intermissions.

I had borrowed Pierce's opera glasses to examine the theater's furnishings, when I spied a familiar group of people taking their seats in a box across the theater from our own. There was no mistaking the tall, erect figure of Major Zachariah Tremaine, as well as that of his son Reginald and daughter-in-law Faith. The twins, Melody and David, followed behind their parents and grandfather. The last gentleman to enter the box and take a seat was the Reverend Erasmus Mayfield, rector of the Church of Our Savior. He seemed in high spirits, chatting animatedly with the younger Mr. Tremaine as the two men, along with the elder Tremaine, took their places behind the women and young David.

My eyes were immediately drawn to Melody, who was wearing a lovely dusky gold gown, overlaid with cream-colored, open-mesh silk netting at the neckline and around the wrists. Her glorious tawny-brown hair had been pulled back from her face, and was decorated with a few simple combs and matching gold ribbons.
Even at a distance, I was once again struck by the girl's innocent beauty and grace, as she allowed her brother to seat her in the center of the box, next to their stepmother on her right.

Faith Tremaine was attired in a dark blue gown, with delicate pale blue lace lining the bodice and the wrists. The cut of her neckline was considerably lower than her stepdaughter's, and the long, slender design of the dress was cleverly cut to make her appear taller than her barely five feet. She was wearing a small evening hat decorated with contrasting feathers, several artificial flowers, and an assortment of brilliant stones, and she was carrying a small reticule which sparkled when it caught the light of the huge crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Look, Pierce,” I said in a whisper, lightly touching his arm and handing him the opera glasses. “Do you see the girl in the gold gown? The one who has just taken her seat in that box across the way?”

Training the glasses in the direction I had indicated, he nodded. “Yes, I see her. She's very lovely.”

“That's Melody Tremaine. Her twin brother, David, is sitting to her left, and that's her stepmother, Faith Tremaine, on her right.”

I went on to explain the three men sitting behind them, including the Reverend Mayfield.

“It was the Reverend Mayfield's deacon, Dieter Hume, who was found murdered two nights ago near the Harrison Street Bridge.”

Pierce appeared interested. “Wasn't another man killed near that same bridge earlier in the week?”

“Yes,” I replied softly. “That was Hume's friend Nigel Logan. The two men attended a party in the Reverend Mayfield's honor at the Tremaine house the night of Logan's death.”

He gave a soft whistle. “That seems a bit of a coincidence. The newspapers have made little of that connection. Instead, they make it sound as if a madman is on the loose.”

“I know, and those stories are frightening a great many people, especially those who live in the Rincon Hill neighborhood. It has crossed my mind to wonder if Reginald Tremaine has exerted
some influence to keep the Tremaine name out of this awful business, although at the time the police seemed to consider the Reverend Mayfield a possible suspect.”

Pierce looked surprised. “A church rector? Why would he do such a thing? And to his own deacon?”

“Why, indeed? It's food for thought, isn't it?”

“How do you know the Tremaines?” asked Pierce, once again training the glasses at the box across from us.

“They live less than two blocks from our house,” I explained. “Although I'm not well acquainted with the family, I occasionally see them at church—the Reverend Mayfield's church, actually.”

I went on to describe the birthday party my sister-in-law Celia held for Faith Tremaine at our house, adding that the surprise of the evening came when young Melody sang for us after dinner.

“She's remarkably gifted,” I told him. “The girl is so shy she hardly uttered a word throughout dinner. It was only when she sat down at the piano and began singing that she truly came to life. You should have seen the glow on her face, Pierce. It was as if she had escaped into a world of her own. The rest of us no longer appeared to exist.”

“If she is as gifted as you say, she should consider a career on the stage,” he said, continuing to study the girl through the glasses.

“I agree. Unfortunately, her father and stepmother seem set against it.”

“She's still very young,” Pierce said, laying aside his opera glasses. “Perhaps when she turns eighteen she can decide for herself what she wants to do with her life.”

“I doubt that her stepmother will allow that to happen. Faith Tremaine seems determined to marry her off as quickly as possible.”

“What about her brother?” he asked. “Does he also express an interest in the theater?”

I laughed. “Hardly. That boy has the mind of a true scientist. I gather he has his heart set on becoming a biologist, or perhaps a botanist. He already shows a remarkable understanding of the natural sciences.”

“Surely his father and stepmother can find no fault with his choice of a career.”

“On the contrary, Reginald Tremaine seems disappointed that his eldest son shows no desire to follow him into the men's retail business.” I took a moment to describe the Men's Emporium, then went on to tell him about the two children he'd fathered with his second wife, Faith. “Fortunately, his younger son, Reggie, seems happy to take over the store when his father retires.”

Before Pierce could comment on this, the houselights dimmed and I, too, fell silent. A tremor of excitement ran through the audience as the curtain rose to reveal an imaginatively designed stage, set off to good advantage by clever lighting. Then Justice Shallow, his cousin Slender, and Sir Hugh Evans stepped onto the stage and the play began. The three were colorfully costumed, as befitted their roles, and as soon as the three began to speak their opening lines, all thoughts of the Tremaines were swept from my mind.

T
he play ran a full three hours, and it was nearing midnight when Pierce and I ordered a late dinner at a nearby restaurant. I admit that I was weary after such a long day, and ordered a light supper of soup and sole, baked in a delicate white sauce. The first part of our meal was taken up with lively talk of the play, then the conversation returned to our earlier discussion of the Tremaine family.

“How does the Tremaine girl feel about marrying so young?” Pierce asked.

I paused in taking a sip of wine to consider his question. “It's hard to say. As I told you, she barely spoke more than a dozen words all evening. However, based on her stepmother's laments about how Melody balks at entertaining young men, or attending social events, I'd say she would far prefer to pursue her music than settle down with a husband and children. At least for now. I'll never forget the expression of pure joy on her face when she began to sing.”

“Is she really as good as you say?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” I said with enthusiasm. “I don't claim to be a music critic, of course, but I have heard voices far less splendid than hers on the stage. It's more than just her voice, though, it's her innocence and beauty, the mood she somehow manages to create. I hardly know how to describe it. All I can say is that it's truly magical. That's why I find it so unfair that her parents refuse to share her with the rest of San Francisco, or the world, for that matter.”

Pierce thought about this. “If she's half as gifted as you claim, Sarah, perhaps I can help. Joseph Kreling happens to be a friend of mine. A few years ago, he and his brother John built the Tivoli Opera House on Eddy Street. I'm sure you've been there.”

“Yes, several times.”

“Perhaps I'll have a talk with Joe and see if he'll allow your Melody to sing for him.”

I experienced a rush of excitement. “Oh, Pierce, that would be wonderful! I'm sure Mr. Kreling will love her.” Then I remembered Reginald and Faith, and my enthusiasm waned. “The difficulty will be in convincing her parents to let her audition.”

“Let's not cross that bridge just yet, Sarah. First I must speak to Joseph about the girl. If he's interested, then we'll see about persuading her parents to allow her this opportunity.”

“It won't be easy,” I said. “But we must at least try.”

He took a sip of wine. “I have never understood the pressure society exerts on a young woman to marry before she's ready. It seems that girls barely make it out of childhood when they're expected to establish a home for their husband, then set about filling it with children. I realize that most women aspire to motherhood, but so many of them live their entire lives without once venturing more than a few miles beyond the place where they were born. I love San Francisco, yet a large and exciting world exists beyond its boundaries. Never to explore its cities and customs seems a terrible waste.”

“Spoken like a true adventurer,” I said, smiling at him over the flickering candles. “I daresay a good many women would agree with you. I certainly do. As you pointed out, though, society wields tremendous pressure on a young girl. As does her family. It reflects
badly on them if their daughter flaunts contemporary mores, and instead chooses to carve out her own path in life.”

“You mean as you have?” His eyes stared into mine with dark intensity, but they were gentle and sympathetic.

I paused, then nodded. “Yes, exactly as I have.”

“Which is why you asked me to pick you up at your office this evening. I gather your mother made rather too much of our dinner engagement the other night.”

I nodded. “My poor, long-suffering mother. I can't blame her, you know. As her only daughter I must be a terrible disappointment.”

“You could never be a disappointment,” he objected. “To anyone. Least of all your family.”

I gave him a wry smile. “Oh, but I'm afraid I could. Much as I love my mother, I simply cannot imagine myself as anything but a lawyer. That's been my dream since I was a child.”

“I understand dreams.”

I looked into his handsome face, and I saw the passion reflected in his dark eyes. “Yes, I believe you do.”

“I often dream of you, Sarah,” he said softly. “At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I imagine sailing around the world with you at my side.” He reached across the table and took my hand. “It would be a wonderful adventure.”

“I'm sure it would,” I told him, and I meant it. Part of me longed to set off and see the world, especially with a man I cared for deeply. I had been independent enough to go against society's dictates and become an attorney, but in other ways I was very much like the women Pierce had just described. Except for a trip I had taken with my parents to England several years ago, I had not traveled far from San Francisco, the city of my birth.

“But you won't change your mind?” He already knew my answer, still his look was hopeful.

I shook my head. “No.” At his downcast look I hurried on. “Pierce, I'm sorry. I—”

“Please, Sarah,” he interrupted, giving my hand a gentle
squeeze. “Don't say anything else. Not now. Let's continue on the way we agreed at the start.”

He raised his wineglass and repeated the toast we had made the other night. “To friendship, my dear Sarah. And to Christmas.”

H
e sat close beside me in the carriage as we drove home. Perhaps it was my imagination, but he seemed to take advantage of every bump and pothole in the road to steady me with his hands, going so far as to place his arm around my shoulder. The last time this happened he used his arm to pull me even closer to his side. Then, before I had time to fully register what was happening, his lips were suddenly on mine.

We had kissed but one time before, but the startling sensations I'd felt then came back to me in a bewildering rush. It was as if I had caught on fire, and was melting beneath an unrelenting heat. This disturbing feeling traveled from my lips all the way down my body, leaving me confused and breathless.