John stood and grabbed one of the trays. He knew Ester's hands had to be hurting and admired her for not complaining. She held the door for Mary and him as they carried the trays out of the kitchen. "What is wrong with them?" he asked as he followed Mary down the hallway.
"The doctor says they have the lung fever," Mary stated without any further explanation. The bowls on her tray rattled as she quickened her pace.
"The doctor left us some of the headache medicine and instructions to mix it up in the soup. He said they should be fine in a few days," Ester said behind him.
As they reached another door, she held it for Mary and him to walk through. The room appeared to be a classroom of sorts that was now converted into a sick ward. Mrs. Wong and her husband were in separate beds but across the room from the sick students. He knew that pneumonia could be deadly and offered a silent pray that God would see these people through this difficult time.
"If you would please take a bowl and place it on the table, Mr. Wong can sit up and feed himself. Mrs. Wong, on the other hand, will need to be fed, Mr. O'Brian." She placed her hand on his arm and leaned a bit closer to him. An electric jolt shot through him as the heat of her hand penetrated the sleeve of his shirt. "She is not recovering very well. I really worry about her." With a small shake of her head, she moved away from him to tend to her students.
He moved quickly to do as she told him. Mr. Wong gave him a short nod of his head when John had placed the man's soup on the table. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it up next to the bed, then settled in to carefully spoon-feed Mrs. Wong the soup. The sleeve of her night gown had bunched up around her elbows. Several bruises were scattered upon her arms. More than a doctor had been here to treat the patients.
A barber had been called in to do bloodletting on at least Mrs. Wong. He wondered how many other patients the treatment had been performed on. He felt for this middle-aged woman as he randomly looked down at her bruised arms. He knew full well from his own experience a few years back just how painful bloodletting treatments were.
Spooning a small amount of broth into her mouth, he waited for her to swallow and open her mouth again. Occasionally, she would offer him a weak smile, but otherwise, she never spoke. He remembered when he had been sick as a child with the lung fever. His mother had brought him soup and sat by his bed feeding him. Her soft voice would offer him words of comfort and encouragement as he struggled to eat. He doubted Mrs. Wong would appreciate him talking to her the way his mother did, so he remained quiet.
Behind him, he could hear Ester's soft voice offer those kinds of words of compassion to her young students as she helped them with their soup. When everything that had to be done was done, Ester and Mary thanked him for his help then sent him on his way. Stepping out into the cool night air, John smiled to himself. The lovely Ms. Woods was nothing like he had expected. She had a kindness to her that he found refreshing—a stark contrast to her fiancé. He wondered what she saw in that man. From his one brief encounter and of course, investigation skills, he learned the man was a snobbish social climber.
Kind, compassionate women didn't try to marry men like Mr. Chesterfield. Something was going on here and his curiosity wanted to unravel the mystery. What he saw of Ester tonight sent a pang of guilt to his conscience about sending the letter to his client. She could potentially be a liar and a thief, he reminded himself. Just because she showed kindness toward sick young girls and servants in her care did not change that fact. He would do good to remember to not let her looks and sweet nature cloud his judgment. It was important he uncovered the truth before it was too late.
Chapter 11
September 1860
Ester was grateful that over the last week, John had come by the school every day and helped her and Mary. The doctor had come by yesterday and declared everyone to be back in good health. He told her to keep some headache powder on hand, but that no one required the barber to come do anymore bloodletting treatments. Ester knew she was a coward but just couldn’t bring herself to assist with such things. So it had fallen to Mary to assist the barber.
Mrs. Wong had even begun to take on her housekeeping chores again. Ester and Mary continued to contribute to the chores until Mrs. Wong regained her full strength. The students had even resumed their lessons, and things seemed to be almost normal again.
Ester needed the normal to keep her focused. The plan needed to be followed—marry Charles, receive her inheritance, and keep the school running. So why did she find herself thinking more about the handsome Irishman who jumped in, rolled up his sleeves, and helped her through the crisis that hit her school? Her plans didn't include a man like him. Time was running out and her wedding day was fast approaching. She should be focused on her students and wedding plans.
Stepping into the classroom, she saw the young ladies sitting at the table, waiting for the lessons in proper ladylike traveling. A woman's lot in life was difficult as her mother used to tell her and traveling carried with it a whole new set of difficulties for women. She gave a quick clap of her hands to draw the young ladies attention to her and signal the start of their lesson.
"Ladies, there may come a time in your life when you find yourself traveling alone. During such a time, a man may try to engage with you in casual conversation. Ladies, you must not encourage such behavior. Politely respond in monosyllabic answers. This will show him your lack of interest in speaking with him and he will leave you alone."
"I have traveled with my father before by train on several occasions, and I have engaged in some very lively conversations with gentlemen seated near us," Anna Brewster piped up.
"Yes, Ms. Anna, when traveling with one's father, it is acceptable to engage in conversation with male travelers. However, it is never ladylike to do such things when traveling alone," she informed the young girls. "In addition, elderly ladies and widows are allowed the freedom to have casual conversations with male traveling companions."
"Why is it acceptable when with one's father but not when alone?" Emily Schnider asked.
"In the company of one's father, they can trust the judgment of their father on who is safe to speak with and who is not. Secondly, a male is less likely to behave in a way that is unacceptable when a lady is being protected by her father."
The girls nodded their heads as they agreed with the logic presented to them, and the lack of argument pleased Ester. They were young and just entering a phase in their lives where their reputation was paramount to everything in life, yet young enough to possibly challenge society's rules. She hoped she instilled in them enough training that they were able to conduct themselves in a manner that never risked their reputations.
"Ms. Woods, there is a gentleman in your office that insists it is urgent that he speaks with you," Mrs. Wong interrupted. "Mary is already in your office waiting for you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Wong. Ladies, take out your needlepoints and work on those while I am gone." She wondered who the gentleman could be that insisted to speak with her. Normally gentlemen did not come to the school. However, since the arrival of Mr. O'Brian, nothing had been normal. The thought of the Irishman made her smile. She quickly admonished herself for having thoughts of Mr. O’Brian—she was an engaged woman after all and should not be thinking of another man.
She stepped into her office and saw a familiar looking man leaning against her desk. She tried to remember where she knew him from but couldn't place him. She motioned for him to take a seat in the chair across from her at the desk as she took her seat.
"What can I do for you?" she asked in her best no-nonsense voice. She wasn’t about to open the door for another would be student’s uncle or other male relative to come waltzing in and becoming too familiar with her and her school. No one stubborn Irishman was enough male invasion she could handle.
"Well, Ester, first off you can give me what is rightfully mine," he demanded still standing staring down at her from across the desk.
"I am sorry, I am not sure what you are talking ab
out. Who are you?" When her eyes met his, she realized where she knew him from. He was the man she ran into outside Mr. Magill's office. The evil, hard look remained in his eyes. A shiver ran down her spine and every fiber of her being wanted to bolt from the room.
‘"I want this school and the money you got from selling the Peacock Club," he said so matter-of-factly that it seemed he really thought he had a right to demand such a thing.
"I have no clue who you are, but I can tell you that I will be doing no such thing." Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to remain calm and in control. She would not engage in a shouting match with this man.
"Ester, you will give me what I ask for, or I will tell all of Boston just what a common whore the good Ms. Woods is. Do you really think people will let you near their precious daughters once they know you were born to a whore in a whorehouse?"
A gasp escaped her lips as she stared shocked at the man across from her. Who was he, and how did he know anything about her? No, this could not be happening. She moved all the way to Boston to put distance between her birth and the lady she was now. She was a respectable lady, a businesswoman. This man couldn't possibly think to take all of that from her.
"Ester, I hold all the cards here. You will do what I want, or I will make sure you lose everything." He smiled an evil smile, one that had her shrinking in her chair. "I will more than ruin you. I will get the sheriff and let him know how you stole those shares from my father before he died. I am the rightful heir and they belong to me."
"What shares? I don't know what you are talking about. I didn't steal anything from you. Mary is a witness to you coming here. She will tell the sheriff how you came in here and threatened me," she yelled at him.
"Yes, well, who do you think the sheriff will believe? The rightful heir or the bastard child? Oh, and I doubt your Irish friend here would be taken too seriously, either."
Rightful heir . . . bastard child? She knew exactly who this man was. William Warner, her half-brother. In that moment, the room began to close in around her. She gulped hard trying to get air into her lungs. Her heart pounded. Gulping, she tried to suck air into her lungs, but it felt like someone had squeezed them shut. Faintly over the roar of her blood rushing in her ears, she heard him say that he would give her three weeks to make a decision. Three weeks? How could she make such an important decision in three weeks? She tried to stand but blackness sucked her under.
She blinked several times and Mary's face hovering over her came into focus. A terrible pain throbbed on the side of her head. Reaching up, she gently touched her head and discovered a small lump.
"You hit your head when you fell. That pompous ass didn't even try to catch you. He just stood and watched you fall before he left." Mary helped her up off the floor and back into her chair. "Do you need anything, Ms. Woods?"
"No, Mary, I will be fine. Just hurts a bit."
"What are you going to do?"
She knew Mary wasn't referring to her head. Having no answer, she simply shook her head. She needed time to think things through. She could give him the school and what money was left. Then her secret was safe, and she could marry Charles and have her inheritance. Or, she could stand her ground and take the risk that William would ruin her reputation. In which case, she would lose the school along with it her inheritance. Why were her mother's choices placed upon her to bear the burden? They were not her sins, but she was punished for them all the same. Sins of the father visited upon the son, and all of that also applied to mothers and daughters. Society held no place for people like her. "I don't know," she whispered.
"Well, I know that I am going to send a telegram to my uncle. Surely, he will have some answers." Mary wrung her hands looking as distraught as Ester felt inside.
"Mary, you can't send a telegram. What if the operator says something to someone? Then word will get out and that in itself will ruin me." She placed her hands over her face and let the tears fall.
"Don't worry, Ms. Woods, I will be very discreet in the message I send him. We need his help, he is after all your lawyer now." She started to leave the room then turned back. "Ms. Woods, not everyone thinks like that man. Those of us who know you know that you are not like your mother. You are every bit the lady that your grandmother was." With that, Mary walked out of the office and left Ester to pull herself together.
So much was riding on her ability to keep things together. The girls at the academy counted on her. Not to mention the new students who were coming very soon. In life she had very few people she could count on for sound advice. The one person she knew would guide her in the right direction was dead. She longed to have her mother here to guide her. To answer so many unanswered questions. Many of which were about her father. The appearance of William Warner, had Ester wishing she had pressed her mother harder while the woman was alive. Instead, she allowed her mother to shut the conversation down anytime Ester as a child had tried to ask.
Chapter 12
They had just arrived back from the butcher shop when Mrs. Wong announced that both ladies had a visitor. Ester told her to show the men to the sitting room and that they would be out shortly. Freshening up, the women left the private quarters and headed for the sitting area. Beside her, Mary practically bounced right out of her shoes. Ester wished she could feel such excitement over Charles. Giving herself a mental shake, she reminded herself that what she felt for Charles was reserved and refined. Just the way a proper lady should behave. Therefore, she should not be seeking to feel the way Mary felt. Mary was not in any fashion reserved or refined.
"Charles, it is so good to see you today," Ester said as she made her way across the room. Charles quickly placed a peck on her cheek. A simple gesture that stirred no emotions in her. Again she reminded herself that they had an affection for each other and in time love would come.
"I thought that since it was such a lovely day, that you ladies would like to take an open top carriage ride," Mr. McSpadden announced.
"Oh, Daniel, that does sound delightful. What do you say, Ester? A ride about the city?" Mary was practically bouncing with excitement.
"I think that is a lovely idea. Charles, what do you think?" She turned to him and waited for an answer.
"Well, I had come to see about taking you out and about today as well. But with your companion going off with a suitor, it would be difficult. A couples outing sounds good." He offered her his arm and together, they followed Mary and Daniel outside.
The driver stepped down and helped Mary then Ester up into the carriage. Both men climbed up and sat across from them. The black-fringed canopy provided the perfect shade. Ester was grateful as she knew she and Ester had committed a grave error in not bringing their parasols. Ladies always had a parasol to protect against the sun, and today she forgot. Charles would admonish her later for the error, she just knew it. They rode around for a bit chatting about the weather. For a time, the men began to talk about the tensions rising in the city. There was talk here and there of a war. But
Ester didn't believe either side would do anything that would move the country into an actual war. More than likely, everything would play out in Washington and the President would push for a compromise that would appease all parties.
Mr. McSpadden signaled his driver to stop and let them out. Stepping onto the street, she took Charles’ arm. Men and women moved about the street, going about their busy lives. It was one thing she loved about city life—all the people and sights and sounds. She could never understand why anyone would want to live in some of those small remote places. Surely, they had to become bored with limited forms of entertainment.
"I am in need of a new hat for tonight's party," Mr. McSpadden announced. "Why don't we drop the ladies here at the millinery to shop for themselves while we take a walk down to the hattery?"
"That is a fine idea. I could use a new hat as well," Charles responded.
Ester stood and watched the men head down the street before turning and entering the millinery with Mary
. No sooner had she entered the millinery shop that Mary tugged on her sleeve. Looking over, she saw a lovely hat in a beautiful shade of blue. She followed Mary to get a closer look. Picking up the blue one, she turned it around on her hand. It was exquisitely decorated, and the craftsmanship was far better than her favorite green hat. Carrying it up to the counter, she asked the clerk to package it up for her. She joined Mary again and they began to look at other hats. They were having such a fun time trying on different hats and checking their reflections in the mirror hung on the wall. One lovely purple hat caught her attention. Then her eyes saw it, the horrible grotesque thing was on the hat.
"What is it, Ester?" Mary asked.
"The bird. That poor bird," she said. Charles and Mr. McSpadden joined them just at that moment. She pointed at the hat again and shook her head.
"My dear, calm yourself. It is very fashionable amongst society's ladies. It is all the rage from what I have heard," Charles said.
"I don't care what fashion says. I will not be wearing anything adorned with dead birds," she said. Turning, she walked back up to the counter. Tiny helpless birds, all killed for the sole purpose of decorating a lady's hat. How could anyone find that fashionable? She didn't think she was unreasonable in her horror of such a practice. She saw a woman the other day who went so far as to be wearing a hat that incorporated twigs and leaves surrounding the body of the bird. Feathers, she understood. Simple feathers made the hats look exquisite and bespoke of one's status. Dead birds, though, while very fashionable amongst society ladies, was something she would not be jumping to acquire in her wardrobe. She was still at the counter mentally berating the fashion when Mary brought up a lovely green hat she had chosen for herself. The rest of the outing steered clear of any talks of dead birds and strange fashions. For which Ester was grateful.
The Christmas Will (O'Brian Brothers Book 1) Page 6
