Kilpara (7 page)

I wrote a quick reply assuring him that
Maureen was safe and since she was here, I had requested her
assistance with preparations for my journey to Ireland. She would
accompany me on my return to Stonebridge. He could expect a
telegram in a few days giving him instructions when to meet us. I
returned this information with a generous tip to the telegraph boy
and told him it was extremely important to transmit the message at
once. The boy acknowledged my order and took off
running.

I hailed a hansom cab and within half an hour
I stood outside the Metropole, a gentleman’s club. It was an
unlikely business housed among factories, commercial buildings, and
warehouses. The building stood alone and inside its heavy double
doors I knew cleanup was going on as workers removed debris from
the previous evening. They were busy setting up gambling tables for
the coming night’s entertainment, restocking mirrored shelves with
clean glasses, and scrubbing and polishing the long bar.

Astelle Linden ruled the hired help with a
firm hand. It was unknown to most people that she was the owner, a
fact she kept hidden behind her brother, Rudy. But the staff abided
by her standards; they knew who was boss.

Anyone caught gossiping about the club’s
affairs was dismissed. This was a place where businessmen and
politicians came to informally negotiate business deals and discuss
the national agenda over drinks. Professionally-run gaming tables
catered to their riskier natures, if they desired to test their
luck.

Local residents did not approve of Astelle or
her brother. Women, in particular, believed they spurred the
damnation of men's souls, tempting them in ways that were sinful.
This was the devil’s work; the Lindens had power over men’s weaker
senses. They enticed the nation’s strongest leaders through their
doors and were the keepers of many confidential secrets.

To avoid curious glances from the staff, I
passed the heavy front doors and used my key to unlock a side door
that led into a quiet hallway and steps upstairs to the apartments
above. I knew I faced a possible rebuttal because Astelle hated to
be disturbed before noon.

Even with this knowledge, I didn't hesitate
when the lock clicked noiselessly letting me into her apartments.
Moving cautiously through the drawing room with its heavy
furnishings, its many paintings, and cold fireplace, I drew back
long drapes and let in the sunlight. I peered inside the bedroom,
accompanied by light from the outer room. Astelle stirred, removed
a mask from over her eyes and asked, sleepily, “Who’s there?” She
raised up in bed and her frown turned to pleasure when she saw
me.

“
Ellis, darling, you’re back.” She
pushed aside the eiderdown, slipped her feet into silk slippers and
padded over to where I stood, her pale colored nightdress clinging
to a firmness that defied her age. Her hand moved through my hair
and came to rest on my neck while her lips found mine. I struggled
to deny her scent, her softness pressing against me through flimsy
material.

Firmly, I removed myself from her embrace. “I
need a favor, Astelle,” I said. Her lips formed a pout and she
moved away slightly.

“
You didn’t rush here to see
me?”

I pulled her back into my arms. “Of course, I
had to see you. But first, I must ask your help.”

She traced my lips with her fingers. “What’s
so important?”

I moved to a comfortable chair beside the
fireplace that I had sat in many times before. Astelle lounged
against the heavily pillowed window-seat facing me while I told her
about Maureen. She toyed with a blond curl as I talked, the outline
of her body distracting me constantly. I filled in the details
quickly because being near her made it difficult to
concentrate.

When I finished my story she moved behind me,
massaged my neck, and began kissing my ear. “You worry so, Ellis,”
she said. “Leave young Maureen to me. Before the day’s over, she’ll
look like the Irish cousin you want, and no one’ll be any the
wiser.”

I sighed with relief knowing I could trust
Maureen to Astelle’s capable genius. With this worry safely
resolved, I stood up and Astelle moved into my arms. She pushed my
jacket off my shoulders and began unbuttoning my shirt. I didn’t
resist this time. Instead I picked her up and carried her to the
high-poster bed. Arms locked tightly around my neck, she threw back
her head and laughed. We tumbled together on the firm mattress amid
scented sheets. “I’ve missed you, darling,” Astelle murmured
against my ear. I removed her flimsy nightgown, moving my hand
slowly over her taut nipples and naked thighs. Passion burned in my
groin, and I abandoned myself to the sensual pleasure of her
body.

I had yet to tell her about my mother’s dying
wish.

It was late morning when I rode the hansom
again, stopping only briefly at Chandler's Moving Company, then
continuing on to Emmons Acquisition Agency. Ulrich Waiker was busy
poring over accounts when I walked in. He was a bright young man
who learned quickly and had been training under my direction for a
year. I had left him several tasks to settle in my absence. Without
looking up he said, “Glad you’re back, Mr. O’Donovan.”

“
How did you know it was me,
Ulrich?”

“
Footsteps, sir.” He paused from
his calculations to look at me.

“
There are serious family
problems,” I said answering his gaze. “But I want to discuss them
with Emmons first. I hope to dine with him this evening; perhaps
you’ll join us at the Metropole afterwards, since this matter will
certainly concern you.”

Ulrich nodded. “Would you like to see what
I’ve accomplished in your absence, sir?” He pulled master ledgers
from a shelf and took them to the large table that we used to
examine multiple accounts.

We became absorbed in our work for several
hours. I hadn't realized how much time had passed until Shanley
walked into the office, his hat tucked firmly under his arm. Eyes
straight ahead, he handed me a note.

“
Mr. Emmons reply, sir,” he
said.

I moved to the window, promptly opened the
envelope, and shook open the single sheet of paper. It read. Meet
me for dinner at 6:30 in the Cambridge Hotel. Clara will accompany
me so bring along your cousin who is likely to be closer in age.
Clara will find her company a pleasant diversion, especially now
that Eloise is feeling under the weather and will not be joining
us. Your cousin is invited to attend the opera with Clara
afterwards. This will leave us free to go to the Metropole for
drinks and discuss this matter you deem so urgent. Shanley is at
your disposal. Clara and I will ride to Baltimore with the Travers
who will also join us for dinner. It was signed in Emmons’ usual
scrawl.

Shanley hadn’t moved a muscle. His face
remained impassive, his mouth formed a thin line, and his glasses
mirrored expressionless eyes. Ulrich stopped what he was doing long
enough to assess my reaction. Satisfied, he returned to work.
Shanley broke the silence. “Mr. Emmons won’t need me this evening,
sir. Are there any orders?”

“
Yes, I shall be leaving here
shortly to return to my apartments after which I’d like you to take
me to the Cambridge Hotel.” Shanley acknowledged my instruction and
retreated to a seat by the door to wait.

Ulrich’s gaze followed him. “Strange man,” he
commented, then returned to the books.

I worried about the upcoming evening on my way
home from the agency. Emmons request to invite Maureen was
unexpected and created problems I hadn’t counted on. It was one
thing to introduce her as my cousin, but something else to parade
her in public. It was folly to have lied; in hindsight, I realized
the difficulties it presented. I chided myself for not being firm,
for not dealing with Maureen more directly. I should have insisted
she return home immediately to Stonebridge.

My mind was plagued with these thoughts when I
entered the apartments. Maureen stood, pen in hand, in the middle
of the drawing room making a list of everything I owned. This
wasn’t the Maureen of the previous evening. She wore a pretty
yellow cotton dress covered by a clean, white apron. Her hair was
no longer loose or shaggy, but piled high on her head with soft
curls dangling at the nape of her neck. This gave her face length,
her neck appearing longer, slimmer. She had added lip-gloss to
emphasize her full lips and matched this with polished
fingernails.

“
What do you think?” she asked,
twirling around in delight. “Your friend, Miss Linden, was so
wonderful. She came by and took me to shops, the like I've never
seen before or even knew existed. She said I could easily pass for
your cousin now. Do you agree?”

“
Yes, Astelle appears to have done
well.” The flatness in my voice caused the joy to freeze on
Maureen’s face.

“
Did I do something wrong?” she
asked. “Miss Linden said you’d be pleased. This was what you
wanted.”

“
Of course,” I added quickly. How
could I explain to her that my foolishness to pass her off as my
cousin had created an impossible predicament for us both? She was a
simple country girl who would stand in wonder of Emmons, be charmed
by the glitter and pomp of a privileged society.

In her naiveté she would underestimate him,
not recognize him for the man he really was. He would see past her
weak subterfuge and discover her true identity. The last thing I
wanted was to have Maureen humiliated. Eileen would never forgive
me.

Maureen was giving an account of the shops and
salons she visited with Astelle. She had never seen so many people
strolling along streets, riding about in hansom cabs and in city
passenger cars. Children shopped with their parents and nannies
pushed perambulators in the park. It was all so
civilized.

“
We’ve been asked to dine with Mr.
Emmons, my employer, and his daughter this evening,” I stated
cautiously. “You’ve been invited to attend the opera afterwards.”
To my dismay, the announcement unnerved Maureen. She
crumpled.

“
I-I can’t...” she began. “I can’t
possibly have dinner with clever, rich people. It’s different with
you, Mas—Ellis. I’ve known you my whole life. I haven’t learned the
proper manners. I’ll say all the wrong things, Think of the
terrible trouble—I’ll let you down. Oh, what shall we do?” She
began wringing her hands. “You’ll have to say I’m ill, the
Baltimore air. Something—”

I would have liked nothing better than to
claim Maureen was ill, but such an excuse could raise Emmons’
curiosity. Cause him to casually stop by my apartments for a drink.
Maureen would be scrutinized. Any slip-up would lead him to presume
I was passing her off as my cousin to hide the fact I had taken
advantage of a simple servant girl, coerced her to be my mistress.
Such an assumption would devastate Maureen. There was no way
out.

“
It’s too late to undo what we’ve
done,” I said, feeling trapped, gripped in the vise of misfortune.
“We’ll get through the evening somehow. We’ll manage.”

“
I’ve put you in a terrible
position,” Maureen said. “You and Miss Linden have been so good to
me. I never expected anything like this to happen.”

“
It’s my fault. I never should have
mentioned you to Mr. Emmons. I did it out of courtesy, never
thinking he would engage you in a meeting. We’re stuck with the
situation.”

“
What’ll we do?”

“
Is that the only dress Astelle
found for you?” I asked

Maureen smiled wanly. “Miss Linden bought me
several ready-made gowns. She said her dressmaker could make more
flattering garments, but there wasn’t time for that. She picked out
three gowns for me, more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen
before. I fretted over the cost, but she said not to
worry.”

I praised Astelle silently for her foresight
and generosity. “Please consider them a gift and wear one of them
to dinner tonight.” I lifted her chin. “If mistakes are made, we’ll
deal with them.”

I must have sounded convincing for she nodded
her obedience.

A couple of hours later Maureen looked
transformed in a rose-colored gown with a plunging neckline that
emphasized her smooth young skin and full bosom. Again I was
reminded of the miracle Astelle had worked. Maureen looked nothing
like the desperate young servant who followed me to Baltimore. Not
only did she look different, she seemed assured in her new clothes.
She smiled warmly at Shanley when she offered him her gloved hand
as she mounted the coach. A faint hint of appreciation entered the
coachman’s dull eyes. I began to feel hopeful.

The Cambridge Hotel, a three-story white brick
building with long windows, sat close to the harbor. The tastefully
decorated upper floors were set aside for hotel residents. On the
main floor beyond the marbled lobby, a wide corridor led to a large
comfortable restaurant overlooking the waterfront. A concierge at
the front entrance held the door open for us, and we walked beneath
candlelit chandeliers to the restaurant entrance. The headwaiter
bowed and showed us to Mr. Emmons' table that was set for
six.

Maureen stiffened when I told her the Travers
would also be joining us. Her eyes watered from nervousness, and
she twiddled her thumbs in rapid succession. I explained calmly
about the Travers, the fortune they derived from making steel
tracks for the railroads, and their part ownership in the Union
Railroad Company. They had five sons no daughters, all married and
settled around the country. My words seemed to make Maureen even
more nervous and I worried she would collapse under the
strain.