The Christmas Will (O'Brian Brothers Book 1)
Page 3
"Does she have a name?" His fingers drummed faster on the desk. It really rubbed him wrong when he had to ask the obvious questions from someone who gave no indication of being in distress. He understood that people in distress needed coaxing when talking with him; however, this man wasn't in distress and was wasting his valuable time.
"Her name is Ester Woods. I found out she is the bastard child of my father and a common whore." He spit the words out as if they had sat for too long in his mouth and turned foul.
"Are you sure your father did not simply give them to her?" John asked. Something very curious was going on. The man's story and body language said he wasn't telling him the whole story. It would not be the first time a man gained a conscience and decided to do right by their illegitimate children.
"My father would not have done that." The man shot out of his seat and slammed his palms down on the desk as he glared down at John. "His will left everything he owned to my mother and me."
"Then that means if she has them, she stole them. So, you want me to track her down, so you can get the shares back and prosecute her?" John understood how some people got angry and felt hurt when faced with betrayal. Yet, this man's anger read completely over-the-top for the situation. John had not gotten where he was without gaining the ability to read people. However, his curiosity was piqued just by what was going on here.
"That is exactly what my mother and I want." He took his seat again, apparently appeased that John said the woman stole the shares. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a photograph. "This is her." He handed the photograph across the desk. "So, can I count on you to find this woman for me?"
"Let me see what I can do. It may take a bit, but I will find your sister." He smoothed one side of his mustache with his free hand.
"She is not my sister." He glared at John with unconcealed contempt. Good, John loved knowing he found a way to goad this arrogant man. As a Pinkerton agent, he worked for all sorts of arrogant bastards. He did his job, and he did it well—it didn’t mean he had to like them though.
With William Warner gone, John held the photograph and stared at the lovely face that stared back at him. She didn't look like the sort that would go around stealing. However, he had learned a long time ago that looks could be deceiving. Especially when it comes to lovely looking women—they could be the most deceptive and the most dangerous. There was one woman in particular, Catherine Davenport, who was the true meaning of angelic beauty. She had the looks that turned men's heads and was well-spoken. He found it easy to have a decent intelligent conversation with her. Her charm swirled his brain in a fog. So much so, that he failed to realize until it was too late just how deceptive and dangerous she was. Turns out, she was a married woman.
A married woman who liked playing other men to make her husband jealous. She didn't care that her husband would find these men and beat them almost to death.
He pulled his thoughts back to the present. He didn't care how lovely Miss Woods was or how charming she might be. He planned to find her and bring her to justice. It was up to the courts to decide if the late Mr. Warner legally gave her the shares or if she stole them. He only had one job, and he planned to do it and get it out of the way.
That evening John walked through the door of the rundown two-story house that belonged to his mother. Entering, he could smell the aroma drifting from the kitchen and his mouth watered. Even with what little they had, his mother always managed to ensure that her family ate good. As he walked into the sparse kitchen, he saw her standing at the wood burning stove that served both cooking and heating for their home. His mother stood stirring something in the large cast iron pot.
He watched her until she turned. Her face lit up upon seeing him. "John, go wash up. Dinner will be ready soon."
"Yes, ma'am." He moved to the wash basin and poured a bit of water from the pitcher. Wetting his hands, he grabbed the bar of soap and lathered up, then rinsed with the water in the basin. He grabbed the threadbare towel she kept next to the basin.
"So how was ye day?"
"It was good, Ma, real good." He moved to the scarred wooden table and sat down. Within a couple of minutes, she brought him a bowl full of stew. "So how was your day?" he asked when she returned to the table and sat with her bowl.
"Me day was good. Would you like to say the blessing?" She didn't want for a response; instead, she bowed her head and waited.
“Bless us, O Lord and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen” Once the blessing had been said, he realized the house of silent. Too silent for a house that housed ten men and his mother. "Where is everyone?"
"Ye brothers are all off doing what they do—school, work, girls," she said dismissively with a wave of her hand.
"Have you heard from our charming Texas Ranger?" he asked, realizing that he missed his older brother. With David now in Texas it fell to John to be the man of the house. A duty he took seriously and yet wished had not fallen to him. David was better at handling the younger of their brothers. Unlike David, John didn’t have the ability to smooth his brothers’ ruffled feathers.
"Not since the last letter. To tell ye the truth, I worry about that boy. A man needs a wife, and a boy needs a mother. I fear though that me grandbaby won't be getting a mother anytime soon."
"Aye, Ma, but Angela's death hit him hard. Can't blame a man for not wanting to go through that pain again." Or for running away from the neighborhood for that matter, John thought to himself. He knew that it was hard for David to be where so many memories of Angela remained.
"A boy needs a mother. David needs to think about his son, not himself," she snapped.
"So says the woman that never married after her husband died," he responded.
"There not be one man on this Earth that could replace me Angus." She smiled again at the mention of her deceased husband.
"I know, Ma. He was a good husband to you and a good father to us. I think David feels the same way about his Angela." He reached out and patted her hand. His mother was always a worrier. The type of mother that would worry herself into an early grave over her child. With ten sons, that meant a lot of worrying for someone like her. He knew how blessed he was to have her in his life.
After dinner, he reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope. Setting it on the table between them, he pushed it toward her. "I got my wages today. There is enough there to pay for two more lectures for Matthew."
"He will pay ye back once he become a doctor," she said as she took the envelope in her hand.
"I am not worried about him paying me back, Ma. I am just glad that I make enough to help my brother fulfil his desire to be a doctor. Come on, we have all known since he was young that it was his God-given calling." He knew it embarrassed his mother to take money from her sons. Each and every one of them, though, had no problem contributing their earnings to help each other rise above the poverty they were born into. He was exactly what he wanted to be in life. His brother, David, was happy to be a Texas Ranger. Matthew and Michael dreamed of being doctors. Michael had gotten an apprenticeship in England, and everyone worked hard to get him that passage. Now they worked hard to pay for Matthew's lectures here in America.
Chapter 6
Boston, August 1860
Ester placed her white linen napkin on her lap as soon as she sat down. Next to her, at the small table in the dining room of her private quarters, sat Mary Magill, and at the opposite end of the table, across from her, sat Mary's gentleman suitor, Mr. McSpadden. Her eyes grew wide as he tucked his napkin into the collar of his shirt. While a rich man, having struck gold in California, he was far from a refined gentleman. What did Mary see in this man? Surely, her companion was not so shallow as to look at his wealth. Who are you to talk, Ester? Are you not yourself marrying for money? She truly did have an affection for Charles, but she knew in her heart that she did not love him. Love will come with time, something she continually told herself. Many successful mar
riages started out as arrangements or affection and turned to love—and she clung to that concept.
Mrs. Wong came in carrying a large white serving dish. She set it down in the middle of the table, then left as quickly as she had come. Ester had learned from the beginning that her maid was a woman of few words. In the beginning, it bothered her because she wanted to get to know her maid. Time and again she would try to engage the oriental woman in conversation. Unless her questions related to work, Mrs. Wong rarely answered. Ester knew Mrs. Wong was married but did not know if she had any children, nor did she know exactly what country the woman had immigrated from.
The smell of roast beef, potatoes, and carrots teased her nose and dispelled any thoughts of Mrs. Wong and her silent behavior. Being the polite lady hostess, she indicated with a sweep of her hand that Mr. McSpadden should serve himself first.
He practically jumped out of his seat and grabbed the dish. Holding it sideways, he shoveled food out of the dish and onto his plate. With his plate piled obscenely full of food, he set the dish down and resumed his seat. Ester looked on in horror and Mary hesitated in her seat. Ester smiled at the other woman and with a small nod, indicated she should serve herself next. Mary did her best to split the meager bit of food left with Ester.
Ester looked at Mary and her meager portion and then back at Mr. McSpadden's full plate. The man was an ill-mannered pig. She bit back the urge to tell the man just that and settled into her seat with her back straight, her fork delicately in her right hand, and her left hand rested primly in her lap.
After savoring a small bite, she looked over at Mary. "Have you spoken with Mr. McSpadden about the progress Sarah has made?" Ester asked, referencing the man's niece. When she had come to the school a little over two months ago, she was without any proper manners or ladylike skills. Now the girl excelled in manners and ladylike skills that would make her a proper young lady.
"We spoke of it earlier this evening. I am very impressed with how quickly she is learning," Mary responded as she looked adoringly at Mr. McSpadden. He held his fork in his right hand and his knife in his left with his elbows on the table. When Ester looked over at him, he had his mouth full of food and bobbed his head up and down while bouncing his elbows on the table. He chewed fast and swallowed hard. What did Mary see in this uncouth man?
"Sorry." He grabbed his water glass and drank half of it before setting it back on the table. "Yes, Mary did speak to me earlier about the girl. It is good she is coming along so nicely. With the proper training, I bet I can get her married to a proper businessman here in Boston." Not waiting for any reply, he went back to shoveling food into his mouth.
"I noticed your Charles came calling today," Mary said after a bit of silence.
"Yes, he came by and wanted to see the books for the school."
"Why did he want to see those?"
"The closer we get to the wedding, the more demanding he gets about such things."
"Well, he will be your husband soon. He has a right to know what his new business will be making him," Mr. McSpadden said.
"Daniel, surely you don't truly feel that it is a man's right to take over a woman's business after marrying?" Mary turned toward her suitor.
"Married women owning businesses is preposterous. A married woman should be at home running the home."
"I do not plan to give up the academy upon marriage."
The mere thought incensed her. In reality, it didn't matter that she didn't want to give up the academy, she would once married if Charles truly pushed the issue. It was an insult to her husband for her to continue to work after they married. Even women married to no-account husbands who drank and gambled away their money were expected to suffer in silence as they and their children starved. It angered her that the world expected women to remain at home without employment, even when their husband failed to provide. She would hold her ground for as long as she could prior to the marriage. After all, there was the chance that he would come around and see things her way.
"If you don't trust the chap to run the business after marriage, then maybe you shouldn't be marrying him," Mr. McSpadden responded.
Heat flushed up her face. How dare this man speak so freely toward her on such matters. It didn't matter that he was right—it angered her that he said what she had been thinking. Her stomach turned when a large belch broke the silence. Charles may be demanding and snobbish, but at least he was a far cry better than this ill-mannered man. She made a mental note to speak with Mary about him once they were alone. Part of her wanted to order him out of her home and away from her table. Proper ladies, however, remained polite hostesses at all times.
***
"Mary, what do you see in him?" Ester asked that evening as Mary helped her prepare for bed.
"In who?" Mary asked as she deftly unlaced the corset.
"In Mr. McSpadden. He is rude and ill-mannered," Ester said as Mary pulled the corset off her. "I don't see what you find charming about the man."
"I know his manners are that of an alley cat, but I love him." Mary undid the hoop skirt and helped Ester step out of it. "Surely, you can understand how I feel. After all, look at you and Charles." She held the nightgown for Ester.
"You love him?" She still wasn't sure if it wasn't Mr. McSpadden's money that had Mary so accommodating.
"Yes, I do love him. Rich or poor, I love that man. So, I put up with his lack of manners. I work with him slowly and gently, such as we do with the students here. In time, he will no longer resemble an alley cat." Mary gave a short laugh.
With the nightgown on, she sat down so Mary could brush out her hair. She felt the brush move soothingly through her hair and against her scalp. She remembered the way her mother used to brush her hair when she was a child. She had so many fond memories of her mother. She knew her mother was the proprietor of a whorehouse, but she was still a good mother in Ester's eyes. When men would come to the Peacock Club, they talked to her with respect.
However, the same men on the streets would look away and the women were very cruel to her mother, referring to them as the whore and her bastard child.
As a small child, she didn't know what the words meant, but she knew they sounded bad. As she got older, the words hurt deep in her soul. Her mother—always so proud—would hold her head high and ignore them. She truly missed her mother and wished she could speak with her one more time. Pulling herself away from the painful thoughts and memories, she focused on what Mary had said. She didn't understand how Mary felt.
She would never marry Charles if he behaved the way Mr. McSpadden did. Did her need to hide the truth about herself and portray the proper lady cause her to become as snobbish as Charles and his mother? She tried to remember if before she went to school in New York had she found behavior such as his offensive before? Or was it all a falseness inside her now?
"Mary, truth be spoken, I don't know how you feel." She leaned her head back, seeking the bite of the bristles against her scalp.
"You are marrying Charles, surely, you love him." Mary continued to run the brush through her hair.
"I have an affection for him. I do not, however, have the kind of love that can overlook flaws."
"Then Daniel was correct tonight at dinner. You shouldn't marry him, Ester." Mary sat the brush down and moved to look Ester in the eyes. "Ester, you must call this wedding off."
"I can't, Mary. You know my grandfather's will. I have to be married by Christmas Eve." Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. She was beginning to feel as helpless as she did the day she learned she was all alone in the world. She wished terribly that her mother was here to guide her. Her mother's advice if she were still alive would be the same thing she had told Ester so many times growing up. 'A woman's lot in life is hard.'
“You are building a good life here in Boston. You have the money the academy is bringing in. Surely, you don't need your grandfather's money so badly that you would marry a man you don't love." Mary looked astonished at the prospect.
"I can't make you not marry him. I hope you are doing the right thing for you." Mary helped her into bed and pulled the covers up as if she was a child. Turning, she extinguished the kerosene lantern before leaving the room.
In the dark, Ester allowed herself to openly cry. Nothing was as easy as Mary made it all sound. It must be nice to be able to live as simply as Mary lived—love someone and ignore their ill-mannered behavior. If you do not love someone then don't marry them, instead throw your entire inheritance away. No, she would marry Charles and they would have a good marriage. She was born a bastard in a whorehouse, but she would die as a proper lady in a fine house.