A Death in Utopia (16 page)

Miss Fuller was silent for a few minutes and appeared to be deep in thought. Finally she spoke. "I know Tabitha Whitelaw quite well. She attended several of my Conversations a few years ago and I have met her at various gatherings. She is a very serious person and devoted to causes such as the abolition of slavery. It is mainly in connection with this work that I have seen her. I know her brother and sister-in-law much less well, but I have met them.

"Violet Whitelaw is considerably younger than her husband and his sister. She has two young children and appears to be very devoted to them. She is not from Boston, not even from New England, I believe, but from Virginia. Perhaps that is why she does not strongly support Tabitha's devotion to abolition. I have never seen them quarrel, but at a large reception once I noticed that Violet Whitelaw was fluttering about the room talking gaily to many of the men there and paying very little attention to Tabitha's efforts to engage the group in serious conversation. Benjamin Whitelaw seems to be quite proud of his wife's beauty and charm."

"Does he have a harsh temper?" Charlotte asked. "Do you think he might resort to violence if he thought his wife was doing something he deemed inappropriate?"

Miss Fuller was quiet for a long minute, while the cook came in with a tray bearing a teapot, three teacups and a plate of biscuits.

"Thank you, Mary," said Margaret Fuller with a smile in her voice. "It's very thoughtful of you to have brought us tea."

As she poured the tea and offered biscuits, she shook her head firmly as though she had come to a decision. "I believe I should tell
you the story that Tabitha Whitelaw told me about her brother. It might have a bearing on the events here."

Ellen and Charlotte leaned forward with anticipation as she began to speak.

"Some fifteen years ago Benjamin Whitelaw was the first mate on a ship that brought molasses from the West Indies to Boston to be made into rum. The hold was full of cargo, such a large haul that many of the stores were lashed to the the masts on deck. About two days out of Kingston, he was walking the deck at sunrise one morning making sure that everything was in order when he heard a faint noise from behind one of the barrels. It sounded like someone singing. He immediately pulled the barrels and bales aside and discovered a skinny young African huddled behind the stores.

"When Whitelaw hauled him out and demanded to know his business, the youth replied he was fleeing from a cruel slave master who had often beaten him because he was not strong enough to work all day in the sugarcane fields. He was trying to make his way to Canada, which he had heard was the promised land of freedom.

"As a ship's officer Whitelaw knew his duty was to report the runaway to the Captain, but he also knew the Captain was a Southerner who had worked in the slave trade for many years before it was outlawed. A runaway slave could expect no mercy from him. Despite twinges of conscience, Whitelaw determined to hide the runaway and help him escape when the ship reached Boston.

"The days went by as the ship made slow progress north. Winds were not favorable and the crew grew unruly as the days grew longer and their hopes of making it home seemed fainter. And of course as the days passed, the store of supplies on deck dwindled and the runaway's hiding place grew less secure. Finally, late one evening
when Whitelaw was in charge of the vessel, he heard a commotion on deck. He investigated and found that the ship's cook, a massive man, had discovered the runaway and hauled him out of his hiding place. He was pursuing the boy with a meat cleaver as the boy tried frantically to escape. Ordered to stop, the cook paid no heed but continued forcing the boy back toward the railing. Finally Whitelaw moved in to stop the cook, but as he moved toward the fighting pair, the cook gave the boy a final push and he fell to the deck hitting his head on a stanchion. It was apparent that he was dead.

"Whitelaw was so incensed at the ferocity of the cook's attack that he rushed at the man and started giving him a thrashing. By this time the noise of the fight attracted a circle of spectators who soon realized Whitelaw would likely kill the cook in his turn. They pulled him off before he could dispatch the cook. At last the captain appeared and gave orders that Whitelaw be confined to his quarters for the day. The runaway was unceremoniously dumped overboard and the cook, as Tabitha tells it, was punished by being deprived of his ration of rum for a week. After all, he had only injured a runaway who should not have been on the ship at all.

"There were no charges brought against Whitelaw, but when the ship returned to Boston the captain spread word about the incident. He claimed Whitelaw was a hothead who might cause trouble and warned other captains not to take him on. That was the end of Whitelaw's career as a ship's officer. It certainly proves that he has a quick, sharp temper, although he seems to have controlled it for these last fifteen years. He became a merchant, earned a lot of money, and has been a leading citizen of the city."

Ellen and Charlotte were enthralled by the story. What sort of man was this who showed such great kindness toward a helpless
runaway, but such vicious cruelty to the man who bullied him? Was he the sort of man who might strike and kill an innocent clergyman because his wife found him too attractive?

"That's a heroic story," Ellen commented. "Do you think he would have killed the cook if he had not been stopped? Do you think he is capable of killing?"

Margaret Fuller leaned back in her chair and pulled her gray shawl closer around her shoulders as she said, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord. That's what the Bible tells us, isn't it? Yet I can't help honoring a man who tries to save a poor wretched runaway. I was of two minds about telling you this story. I am not sure a man should be a suspect because of the violence he showed when he was young."

Charlotte found herself sighing and shaking her head. "Nothing is easy, is it? What are the pieces we can put together? Benjamin Whitelaw seems to have been troubled by his wife's flirtation with Winslow Hopewell. He has a history of taking it upon himself to punish a man who is doing wrong. Is that what happened? He could have gone to Brook Farm to talk to Reverend Hopewell and ask him to refrain from having contact with his wife. Then perhaps he was seized by jealously and struck out angrily without thinking of the consequences. But how are we to know for sure?"

"Can you find out whether or not he went there?" asked Margaret Fuller. "Surely a man like Benjamin Whitelaw would have ridden a horse, or perhaps driven a buggy out to the Farm for an early morning visit. Did anyone see him? Is there any evidence of a horse being in the area?"

"The recent rain and snow would surely have destroyed any traces of an animal being there," Charlotte admitted slowly. "We will have to find a different way to discover what happened."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Daniel Has a Disappointing Day

November 6, 1842
.

Daniel had promised to visit Charlotte after dinner on Sunday and he was waiting for her when the Brook Farmers started clearing their tables. The smell of molasses and beans made his mouth water although he had eaten a rasher of bacon and an egg at the boarding house. In the parlor someone was playing the piano, lovely music with trills and flourishes that made him stop for a moment to listen. But he was impatient and eager to talk to Charlotte privately. He had no time to enjoy music today and suggested they take a walk.

November is not the best month for a walk in Massachusetts and the wind was harsh, blowing the crows backwards when they tried to fly into it, but the sun was bright. Charlotte told him the strange story about how Benjamin Whitelaw had protected a runaway African stowaway on his ship and then attacked the man who had struck him down and caused his death. That seemed to prove that Whitelaw was a hothead even though he was a respectable middle-aged Boston businessman. Daniel couldn't picture him either protecting an African or attacking another officer, but there's many a man who has committed rash acts in his youth.

"He might have attacked Winslow Hopewell if he was angry enough about the way the minister was attracting his wife. Don't you think so?" asked Charlotte.

"Yes, I suppose he might. But the sheriff won't be convinced of his guilt just because he was in a fight fifteen years ago. We need to know more than that."

"We have to find out whether he was anywhere near Brook Farm when Reverend Hopewell died. Did he have his horse or buggy out here that morning? If we could find out that he went out early that morning, we would be closer to the answer," suggested Charlotte.

"You're right. Tracking down the horse is the only way to find out. And that's up to me because I can't see you wandering around Boston stables looking for a horse."

"I could, if I had too," insisted Charlotte. "But it will be easier for you. All you have to do is look like an unemployed stable hand looking for a job." She eyed his clothes and then added mischievously, "That shouldn't be too hard for you."

Daniel huffed a bit thinking she had no right to criticize his clothes even though he wasn't wearing his best suit. He had to save that to impress Mr. Cabot. But Charlotte was laughing now and Daniel knew she meant no harm. She had been a poor girl herself and knew what it was like to be always worrying about saving good clothes for when they were really needed.

By the time they got back to the Hive, their cheeks were red and their hands numb with cold, but they sat by the fire in the kitchen for a while and soon felt better. Daniel was cheerful when he headed back to Boston late in the afternoon.

The next morning he was up early and set out for the Whitelaw mansion. It wasn't hard to find the stable behind the house, a smallish brick building with a turret. In the stable yard a gray-haired man in work clothes was saddling up a glossy chestnut horse. Daniel slouched over toward him trying to look like a down-and-out stable hand looking for an odd job.

"Have you any need of help?" he called out to the man.

"Not from the likes of you."

"I've experience working with horses," Daniel lied. "Lost my last place when the owner went bankrupt, but I'm a hard worker. This is Mr. Whitelaw's stable, is it?"

"Yes, it is and he's very particular who works for him. We don't need any help now."

"I've heard he's a good man to work for and not likely to go bankrupt anytime soon. How many horses does he have here? You must be worked off your feet in a big place like this." Daniel tried to sound sympathetic. The man's face was weather beaten and he had a scar across his cheek. He looked as though he'd been working hard for a long time.

"It's not too bad. Mr. Whitelaw's a fair enough man. And his wife has a ready smile and doesn't complain the way some Boston ladies do. But I've told you already, we don't need more help." His voice got louder as he said those last words.

"What's the trouble, Harry?" said a voice behind him. It was Mr. Whitelaw, one person Daniel didn't want to see. He pulled his cap down over his forehead and turned his head away as he moved toward the driveway.

"Just looking for a job. Guess I picked the wrong place," Daniel mumbled as he moved as fast as he could. He almost got past Whitelaw too, but then he felt a hand seize his shoulder.

"Say, aren't you the young fella who works for the
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Mr. Whitelaw bellowed. "What are you doing hanging around my home? You'll pay for this. I'm taking you to the sheriff."

"I've done nothing wrong," Daniel protested. "What complaint would you make to the sheriff?"

"Trespassing, you fool!"

"I've a right to look for a job and I'm leaving your property right now." Daniel moved as quickly as he could.

Mr. Whitelaw was flushed with anger, but he must have realized the sheriff wouldn't arrest a man for asking about a job. He contented himself with shaking his riding crop after Daniel and spluttering, "I'll see you never work for John Cabot again."

Daniel realized he'd made a hash of that. What was the point of trying to solve the mystery if Mr. Cabot refused to print it? Maybe if he rushed over to Mr. Cabot's office and explained that he'd been working to solve the mystery, he could get away with it. But he couldn't go face him in his work clothes, he'd have to change at the boarding house and hope Whitelaw would have some urgent business to attend to before he talked to Cabot.

When Daniel got to the
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office, Mr. Cabot had not even arrived. He waited impatiently while the clerks kept scratching away with their pens. The room was very quiet. Finally there was a noise on the stairs and Mr. Cabot came in.

"Good morning, young man. Have you solved the great crime of the century out at Brook Farm yet?" He seemed in a friendly mood so Daniel breathed a sigh of relief.

"I've been continuing my investigations, sir," he began and at that moment heard a sharp rap at the door. Mr. Whitelaw walked in accompanied by the man with the gold watch chain Daniel had seen before in the office. Whitelaw burst out talking, not caring who he interrupted.

"This young man has been pursuing me. I've half a mind to charge him with trespass for coming to my stable this morning and bothering my stable man. It's a disgrace that he's working for a paper like the
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. He's no credit to you and I hope you will dismiss him at once."

"Sir, I was following an important lead in the story. I brought no harm to Mr. Whitelaw and caused no trouble. When I get the full story and the details are clear, you will see that I've damaged no one who is an upstanding member of the community."

Mr. Cabot's thin lips twisted with distaste as he listened to the two of them, but his scowl was directed at Daniel. "These two men are leading citizens of Boston and stockholders in the newspaper too. Mr. Whitelaw and Mr. Jarrod Smith are not to be bothered with your wild schemes."

At this point Mr. Smith spoke up. He had an oddly high, squeaky voice for such a substantial man. "Not that we don't want to read good stories in the
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he said. "The people of our city like to read the latest news. And we mustn't let it all go to other newspapers."