Authors: K.B. Owen
Tags: #mystery cozy, #mystery historical, #mystery amateur female sleuth, #mystery 19th century, #mystery academic setting, #mystery hartford ct, #mystery lady professor, #mystery progressive era, #mystery victorian, #mystery womens college
“
That’s not true,”
Concordia said. “But I don’t approve of your behavior toward them,
or your lack of effort in your own studies.”
“
Ooh, those girls are
infuriating. I cannot stand it!” Miss Smedley exclaimed. “They do
something outrageously stupid, like putting the president’s buggy
in the bursar’s office of all things, and now the whole campus is
cheering them on, and they get their names in the
newspaper.
” She put her
face in her handkerchief and sobbed again.
Concordia sat next to the
girl, putting an arm around her shoulders. “There’s much more to it
than it seems,” she said, her voice gentle, “but it’s pointless to
compare yourself to others. Why worry about them? What do
you
want from your life?
And how are you going to make that happen?”
“
Alison, may I tell Miss
Wells what you told me?” Charlotte asked.
The girl shrugged and wiped her
eyes.
Charlotte turned to Concordia. “Alison
is beginning to have doubts about the sort of life her parents have
in mind for her, but she fears trying to do anything else. She
thinks she would not be capable, or that her father would forbid
it.”
Alison nodded miserably.
“
Alison and I come from a
similar upbringing,” Charlotte continued, with a half smile in the
girl’s direction. “In fact, our families know each other. Our
parents want us to become leaders within our social sphere, to be a
help-meet for the man we will eventually marry, and further his
career—in the parlors of genteel society, at least. I’m not saying
that isn’t a laudable ambition, but it isn’t suited to every girl.
To our families, the purpose of a women’s college is to make
advantageous connections and to enhance our pedigree. No one back
home expects us to apply ourselves to the mental rigor of college
work–I doubt they imagine we are required to do rigorous work. They
certainly don’t expect us to pursue a career after
college.”
Concordia sat back and considered this
in silence. That explained a great deal: the scorn, the aborted
efforts, the desperate need for an attentive following.
“
Miss Smedley,” Concordia
said finally, “I know you are capable. I have seen glimpses of it.
Why not explore your abilities? We can help,
if
you are willing to try.” She
gestured to Charlotte. “I suggest you ask Miss Crandall how she
came to be here now, as a
teacher
, a woman making her own way in
the world. I think you’ll find it inspiring.”
She got up and left them to
it.
Concordia was just in time to meet
Capshaw as he stepped onto the porch. She quietly ushered him into
the parlor and went to get Ruby.
“
Would you mind coming out
to the parlor for a moment?” Concordia asked, sticking her head in
the kitchen. She turned and walked back down the hall before Ruby
could ask why. With a puzzled crease of her brow, the matron put
aside her work and followed.
Lieutenant Capshaw stood as they
entered. “Mrs. Hitchcock.”
Concordia saw the raw panic flit
across Ruby’s features before she suppressed it. Her shoulders
slumped. “Lieuten’nt.”
“
Would you sit, please?”
Capshaw gestured to the settee.
Concordia closed the door and sat
beside the trembling housekeeper. “It’s all right, Ruby,” she said.
“Lieutenant Capshaw just wants to ask you a few
questions.”
“
I know what questions he
has,” Ruby said, eyes blazing, “but I don’t have any answers for
him.” She faced him squarely. “Don’t know why you’re pokin’ your
nose here, anyhow.”
Capshaw raised an eyebrow. “An
unsavory stranger wanders the grounds, and you don’t think that’s a
problem? Aren’t you charged with the safety of your
girls?”
Ruby kept her eyes on her shoes. “It’s
been a while since then. Nobody’s been hurt,” she added
defensively.
“
Ruby,” Concordia said,
“it’s clear you’re trying to protect this man. You know him, don’t
you?”
Ruby shuddered and buried her face in
her apron, sobbing.
Capshaw looked as if a live snake had
slithered into the room. He cleared his throat and gave Concordia a
beseeching look.
For the second time that day,
Concordia found herself consoling a weeping female. “We want to
help. Just tell us. Who is he?”
Ruby lifted a tear-streaked face. “My
husband.”
Concordia’s mouth hung
open.
Husband?
Capshaw calmly pulled out his notepad
and started to write. “I thought you were widowed, ma’am,” he said
politely.
Ruby gritted her teeth and
dabbed a handkerchief to her eyes. “
So did
I
. For the past thirty-four years, no less!
I got a widow’s war pension, pitiful as it was. That cowardly,
no-good excuse for a man let them think he was dead, along wi’ the
dozens scattered on the battlefield. He switched the contents of
his pockets and papers with another man who...” her voice faltered,
“didn’ have much of a face left.”
“
Why?” Concordia
asked.
Ruby shrugged. “He didn’ want to fight
anymore. He told me he left the country for a long time, working as
a logger in Canada, and picking up odd jobs in the off
season.”
“
And you haven’t been in
communication with him all this time? How did he find you?” Capshaw
asked.
The matron scowled. “He’s
living in Hartford for a time, he says, and he found
me
because of that blasted
newspaper article, when I got the staff award. Says when he read it
he figured I was doing well for myself. Wanted money. He threatened
to tell President Langdon he was my husband.”
“
Did you give him any?” the
lieutenant asked.
Ruby nodded, and turned to Concordia
with pleading eyes. “Wot could I do? If the school knew I was
married, I’d lose my position for sure. And I’ll certainly never
live with that shady, no-account Johnny Hitchcock while I still
have breath in me!”
“
So he’s going by Johnny
Hitchcock these days?” Capshaw asked, scribbling
rapidly.
“
Guess he in’t scared of
being caught by the War Office anymore.” Ruby shrugged.
“
Any other names he’s gone
by? What’s he doing in Hartford?”
Don’t know why he’s back in these
parts, but he’s up to no good, I’m sure,” Ruby said. “I have no
idea wot names he’s used in the past.”
“
What do we do now?”
Concordia asked Capshaw.
The policeman rubbed his mustache as
he thought. “Where have you met this man, to give him
money?”
“
At first, he came to the
kitchen door. I was kinda scared that’s what he was goin’ to do,
after you told me he’d come looking for me, miss,” Ruby said,
glancing at Concordia. “But I told him he was attracting too much
attention being on a girls’ campus, and he could get me in trouble.
So he sent me a message with the name of a saloon. I’d go, and have
a messenger boy step inside to ask for him while I waited outside.
Then he’d come out, I’d give him the money, and leave.”
“
The name of the
establishment?”
“
The Brass
Spittoon.”
Concordia’s lips quirked. The name
said it all.
Capshaw stood. “Mrs. Hitchcock, this
is what you’re going to do: first, stop communicating with him.
Completely. And don’t give him any more money. If he comes to
campus, call me.”
Ruby blanched. “But he’ll tell Mr.
Langdon!”
Concordia interrupted. “Mr.
Langdon will already know, because
you
are going to tell him. Today. I’ll
go with you.”
Capshaw nodded. “That’s right, ma’am.
It’s the only way to remove this man’s hold over you. In the
meantime, I’ll locate the...gentleman, and make him see the error
of his ways. We have plenty of blackmailers in prison, you know.
I’ll remind him of that fact. He should leave you alone after
that.”
Ruby put a trembling hand on
Concordia’s arm. “But I’m still—married to him,” she
whispered.
“
We’ll talk with Mr.
Langdon about that, too,” Concordia said. “I’m sure there is
something that can be done, when a man has been declared dead all
these years. Don’t worry,” she added, “we’ll get this straightened
out.”
Week 9, Instructor Calendar
April 1898
Concordia had just finished grading
themes in her office when David Bradley tapped on her door. “Am I
interrupting?” He hovered uncertainly in the doorway, which meant
that his compact, muscular build took up most of it.
Concordia smiled. “Not at all. Come
in.”
He pulled a chair from the corner of
the room and put it in front of her desk. “You said you wanted to
talk, and we never got the chance after Miss Hamilton returned with
Eli,” he said. “I’ll be busy with laboratory exams all week. Can we
talk now?”
Although his posture appeared casual
and relaxed, she could see the tension in his jaw. His usual
dimpled smile was fleeting.
Concordia hesitated. She had been
postponing this long enough. Best to get it over with.
“
What did you want to talk
to me about?” he prompted.
Concordia took the plunge. “Our
engagement.”
David leaned forward anxiously.
“You’ve changed your mind. I know we’ve been arguing more lately,
Concordia, and I’m sorry about Rosen—”
“
No, no, it’s not that,”
Concordia interrupted hastily. “But I do want to talk about the
engagement. I was hoping you would be willing to...postpone it for
a while.” She tried to take courage in her mother’s words.
If David is half the man I believe him to be,
he’ll wait—and count himself lucky to do so.
Concordia hoped she was right.
David frowned. “Postpone it? For how
long?”
“
I-I’m not sure.” Concordia
bit her lip. “I do love you, David. I’m just not…ready. I think the
fact that we’ve been arguing more often points to us needing more
time.”
“
When
will
you be ready?” he asked
carefully.
“
I don’t know. I’m sorry,”
she added, her voice catching. “I know it’s terribly selfish of me
to ask you to wait. But it’s a big step for me. It doesn’t feel
right to take it yet.”
David reached over and clasped her
hand. “But you’re not retracting your promise?”
She shook her head, tears welling in
her eyes, her throat burning with words she couldn’t
say.
He gave her a tentative smile. “I was
worried,” he said quietly. He got up and turned toward the window.
Concordia watched him struggle to maintain his
composure.
After a moment, he turned back to face
her. “I can wait.”
Concordia let out a breath she didn’t
realize she was holding. “Thank you.”
David glanced at her desk clock. “I’d
better be going.” He gestured at the bowl on her desk, brimming
with pansies. “They’re lovely.”
Concordia smiled. “A breath of spring
in a dusty office. Though I don’t know how they got here. There’s
no note. Perhaps President Langdon had an abundance in his garden.
I was going to ask him later.” All the staff knew that Langdon
spent as much time in his garden in the spring than in his office.
Many an impromptu staff meeting took place among the hydrangeas and
rhododendrons in front of Sycamore House.
David looked closely at the
bowl, turning it. “Ah,
here’s
a note.” He pulled a slip of paper embedded in the
leaves and handed it to her.
Concordia opened the plain white scrap
of folded paper, titled CONCORDIA. Her chest felt tight as she
read:
YOU HAVE BEEN SPARED, THIS TIME.
ABANDON YOUR INQUIRIES OR PREPARE TO JOIN ROSEN.
“
Concordia, what is it?”
David picked up the paper where she’d dropped it. He sucked in a
breath as he read. “We should call the police.”
“
No.”
“
What do you mean,
no
? Someone slips into
your office without your knowledge and leaves this note,
threatening to kill you, and you will do nothing?”
His voice had risen in his
agitation, and Concordia made a
shushing
gesture. She got up and
closed the door. “Of course I’ll ‘do something’,” she answered
tartly. “But we don’t know who in the police department we can
trust. You were there when Miss Hamilton returned with Eli; you
know how powerful the Black Scroll is. I’ll inquire if anyone
observed a man lingering near my office this morning.”
Maynard’s and Isley’s offices were
just down the corridor. How easy it would be for either of them to
place the flowers and note on her desk. She felt a chill at the
base of her spine. “I’ll also show this to Capshaw—and Miss
Hamilton, when she returns,” she continued. “They may figure out
something.”