Keeping Secrets (6 page)

“Miss Hennessey isn’t here at the moment,” Mrs. Kling told Peg.

“Oh,” Peg said. Disappointed, she slumped against a high-backed wing chair, resting her chin on the shawl and trying to think of what to do next. She could leave the shawl with Mrs. Kling to deliver to Miss Hennessey, but that would rob her of the visit she’d planned.

She straightened, taking a deep breath. “Is it all right if I wait for her to return?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Kling said. “Just find yourself a comfy seat. I don’t think you’ll have to wait long.”

As Mrs. Kling left the room, Peg sat in the wing chair, but soon two boarders, wearing black frock coats and trousers and stovepipe hats, entered and stared with curiosity at Peg as they made their way to the staircase. Not wanting to be on exhibit, Peg moved to a chair back against the farthest wall under the leaves of a large potted plant.

Peg had waited scarcely half an hour when the door opened, and a beautiful woman entered, her right hand resting lightly on her escort’s arm. She was dressed in a full skirt and short, fitted jacket in a pale blue wool. A tiny, feathered hat perched on top of her dark curls. The man spoke, and as the woman looked up at him, laughing in delight at whatever he had said, he beamed in pleasure.

Peg caught her breath in astonishment. Miss Hennessey! The beautiful woman was Miss Violet Hennessey! And she was with the terrible, horrible Mr. Amos Crandon!

Too stunned to move or speak, Peg could only watch as Miss Hennessey said, “Thank you, Mr. Crandon, for your very kind help. Without your assistance I might never have been able to see General Bassett.”

“It was my great pleasure to assist you, Miss Hennessey,” Mr. Crandon said. His cheeks puffed with pleasure, making him look like an ugly, giant frog in Peg’s opinion. “As soon as General Bassett’s letter guaranteeing you safe passage has been written and signed, I’ll personally deliver it to you. Perhaps tonight. At the latest, tomorrow.”

“I shall be forever grateful to you, Mr. Crandon,” Miss Hennessey said.

Beaming even more broadly, Mr. Crandon bowed low over Miss Hennessey’s hand, then opened the door and left.

This woman who simpered over the despicable Mr. Crandon was not the Miss Hennessey Peg knew as a friend. Something strange was taking place—something she didn’t understand.

I’ll face right up to Miss Hennessey
, Peg told herself,
and find out once and for all exactly who she is and what’s going on!

6
 

“M
ISS
H
ENNESSEY
!” Peg called out and jumped to her feet.

As Miss Hennessey whirled toward Peg, the remnants of her smile vanished, and she looked as though she were frantically trying to recall what Peg may have overheard. “Peg! It’s you,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am, it’s me,” Peg answered. She held out the shawl. “You left this shawl and pin at our house. I thought you’d need it.” She paused, staring at the beautiful blue outfit. “But I guess you don’t.”

Miss Hennessey reached out—not for the shawl, but for Peg—and drew her close. Warm and friendly again she said, “Peg, dear, what a lovely surprise! It’s wonderful to see you. I’ve missed our delightful conversations. How nice of you to come to see me.”

Peg allowed herself to be led to a nearby sofa,
where Miss Hennessey pulled her down beside her, but she didn’t smile in return. “You were with Mr. Crandon,” she said.

Miss Hennessey’s eyes twinkled. “Why, yes. A charming, very helpful man. Do you know him?”

“Mr. Crandon’s
not
charming or helpful! He’s a mean, nasty old humbug who tries to hornswoggle everybody he can!”

Embarrassed when she saw that she had shocked Miss Hennessey by her outburst, Peg stared down at her toes. “I’m sorry I used unladylike language, ma’am, but it’s true.”

“I was under the impression that Mr. Crandon is a highly respected businessman in St. Joseph.”

“He’s richer than most folks. Maybe some people think that’s a reason to respect him, but I don’t. First he was a southern sympathizer. Now he’s for the Union. ‘All he’s interested in is whatever side his bread is buttered on,’ Ma says. He’s been rude and hateful to Ma and to Mike … to all of us Kellys.”

“Then I don’t like him, either.” Miss Hennessey smiled and squeezed Peg’s hand. “In the future I’ll have as little as possible to do with him.”

“He said he was coming back with a letter,” Peg reminded.

Miss Hennessey nodded, the long feather on her hat brushing Peg’s forehead. “I’ve recently received word that my sister and her husband are temporarily residing south of St. Joseph in Buchanan County!”

“Your sister?”

“Yes! My sister, Nellie Parker.”

“But I thought you said you lost your family in Boston.”

“My parents. Not my sister.” Producing a handkerchief from a pocket in the sleeve of her jacket, Miss
Hennessey held it to her lips and closed her eyes tightly.

Miserable at the anguish she had caused Miss Hennessey, Peg stammered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Of course you didn’t. It’s quite all right.” Miss Hennessey opened her eyes and clasped her hands together under her chin. “Oh, Peg, you can’t imagine how much I long to see my sister! But with Union patrols throughout the countryside—many of them treating loyal members of the Union as rebels, simply because they live in Missouri—I wouldn’t dare to travel even a short distance without an official letter guaranteeing me safe passage. That’s the letter to which Mr. Crandon referred.”

Peg frowned and held up two fingers pressed together. “Everybody knows that Mr. Crandon and the provost marshal are as thick as that.”

“That’s why he’s able to obtain the letter for me.”

A sudden thought struck Peg, and she blurted out, “You haven’t been in St. Joseph long. How did you know to ask Mr. Crandon for help?”

Miss Hennessey smiled. “I met him when I opened a small account at his bank. As we chatted I made bold to tell him my wish to visit my sister and, to my delight, he informed me of his strong political connections and offered his help.”

The explanation made perfect sense, yet Peg still felt vaguely uncomfortable. She took a deep breath and spoke in a rush. “You’re so different. You don’t even look like yourself.”

“I’m not surprised.” Miss Hennessey stood up and turned from side to side. “Do you like my dress? I’m so partial to blue. Blue is your color, too, Peg, with that glorious red curly hair.”

“Your dress is very pretty,” Peg said, “but it’s not like the dresses you wore when you stayed with us.”

“Of course not,” Miss Hennessey said. “A dress like this would not be at all suitable for wear in the home. You have party dresses that you save for special occasions, do you not?”

“I have a dress with a pleated skirt and a lace-trimmed collar that I wear to church,” Peg admitted.

“There. You see?”

“I suppose so.” Peg knew that Ma would have a conniption fit if she wore her good dress around the house. Peg tried to brush away her niggling suspicions, but found it getting harder and harder to do. There were so many strange and puzzling things about Miss Hennessey. And yet Miss Hennessey always seemed to offer logical answers.

“I’m starving,” Miss Hennessey said. “I’m going to ask Mrs. Kling if we might have a cup of tea and perhaps a sweet to enjoy with it. Would you like that?”

Peg didn’t have to be asked twice. She waited patiently while Miss Hennessey entered the hallway in search of Mrs. Kling.

“May my guest and I please have some tea and shortbread, if you have some?” Peg heard Miss Hennessey ask.

She also heard Mrs. Kling say, “No trouble at all, Miss Hennessey. Here … I was just looking for you. A fine-looking young man left this letter for you about an hour ago. He asked me to give it to you the moment you came in. Urgent, he said, and he couldn’t wait.”

A fine-looking young man? Could he have been James?
Peg doubted that Miss Hennessey had been in St. Joe long enough to meet other fine-looking young men. She wished she could ask Miss Hennessey if James were in St. Joe and if he might finally be paying
heed to her pleas to give his loyalty to the Union, instead of to Quantrill. But she couldn’t. As Ma sometimes said, “There’s a big step between natural curiosity and prying.”

When Miss Hennessey finally returned, Peg searched her face, but she saw neither sorrow nor joy. Instead, her eyes seemed overbright, and her hands trembled as she placed a tray with cups, saucers, a pot of tea, and a plate of shortbread cookies on a low table.

One look at the tea and cookies caused painful memories that drove all other thoughts from Peg’s mind, and her heart ached. “On the day my brothers and sisters and I arrived in St. Joe, I had tea poured from a fancy pot just like that,” she said. “Mr. and Mrs. Swenson chose Danny and me to live with them, and before we rode to the Swensons’ farm, Mrs. Swenson insisted that we stop at the hotel for tea.”

Miss Hennessey poured two steaming cups of fragrant tea and placed one in front of Peg. “You must miss your brothers and sisters very much,” she said.

Peg nodded. “I do. All of them. But especially Danny. Because he’s just little more than two years older than me, we were always special chums.”

“I heard about Frances daring to work with the Underground Railroad and about Mike’s bravery in serving as a drummer boy with our Union Army.” Miss Hennessey paused a moment, then said, “I’ve known you long enough, Peg, to be sure that you’re every bit as resourceful and brave as your brother and sister. If you were faced with a challenge, as they were, you’d meet it without question.”

Taken by surprise, Peg murmured, “I—I suppose. I—I don’t know.”

“Well, I do.” Miss Hennessey smiled and held the
cookie plate out to Peg. “Do have a cookie. They’re delicious.” She studied Peg so intently that Peg knew it wasn’t cookies Miss Hennessey had in mind. What was she thinking?

Peg bit into the buttery, crumbly shortbread, still warm from the oven.

“It’s such an amazing coincidence that your brother Danny lives near my sister. As I’ve just told you, I’ve been yearning to pay my sister a visit, but under the current circumstances I’ve hesitated to travel alone.” She tilted her head and smiled at Peg. “However, I wonder if …”

Peg’s heart pounded as she realized that Miss Hennessey might be considering her and Ma as traveling companions. She held her breath, waiting for the invitation, and was disappointed when it didn’t come.

Miss Hennessey pulled a tiny watch from the pocket of her jacket. “Dear me,” she said. “It’s getting late, and your mother will be worried. Please, Peg dear, explain that your delay was all my fault, and ask her … No.” Her eyes twinkled as if she knew a wonderful secret. “I’ll see her soon and ask her myself.”

As Peg walked home she thought about Miss Hennessey’s secret. With all her heart she hoped it had to do with traveling with her to see her sister. And Danny!

It must! She gave a skip and a jump as she thought of seeing Danny again. And soon! Ma’d be excited to go, too.

I wish … I wish …
Afraid to put her wish into actual words, for fear it wouldn’t come true, Peg began to hum “Camptown Races,” concentrating as hard as she could.

“Skinny ninny!”

A stone skittered across the road in front of her
feet, and Marcus’s head popped up on the other side of a nearby holly hedge.

“Marcus! You … you … guttersnipe!” Peg shouted.

She chased him until he slammed into the door of his house. His mother began yelling at him for making so much racket, and Peg grinned in satisfaction. Her own house was just a short way up the road, so she kept running, bounded into the kitchen, and flopped into a chair.

“Good gracious!” Ma said as she pumped a glass of water at the sink and handed it to Peg, who was breathing heavily. “What happened to you?”

Peg gulped noisily and put down the glass. “Marcus called me a skinny ninny again, and I chased him. Lucky for stupid old Marcus I didn’t catch him.”

Ma chuckled. “This was
after
you returned Miss Hennessey’s shawl, I hope.”

Peg nodded.

“Did you find Miss Hennessey well?”

“Yes.” Peg hesitated, wondering about all she’d seen and heard. How could she describe it to Ma?

“You were gone for quite a while. Did you have a nice visit?”

“We had tea Tea and shortbread.”

“That’s lovely,” Ma said. When Peg didn’t continue, Ma asked, “Will you set the table for me, please? John will be home soon.”

Peg slowly got to her feet, ambled to the cupboard and removed three plates. “Ma,” she said, “Miss Hennessey was … well, different.”

“How was she different?”

“Her hair was curled and piled on her head, and she was wearing a blue dress and jacket and a hat with feathers.”

“That’s nice,” Ma said. “It shows she’s feeling well enough to take a few pains with her appearance.”

“That’s the reason? That’s all?” Peg asked. She felt such a surge of relief at Ma’s explanation that she quickly slapped the plates on the table and reached for the napkins.

Ma looked at her sharply. “Is something bothering you, Peg?”

“Not really. Well … I don’t know. Could I ask you something, Ma?”