Jonathan had thought he understood what Tillenghast’s true end game was, but now he wasn’t so sure. It didn’t surprise him that someone had leaked information that the contracts existed, but not the true nature of the ship or the new weapons he was building. Then again, perhaps Tillenghast had had just enough information to make an educated guess and deduced the rest. It was more likely he was using the summons as a means to force Jonathan to reveal more about what he was working on. Jonathan needed to remain calm and not run out to where the new weapons were being built to check on their progress. Jonathan was sure he was being watched, and he had no intention of leading spies to his secret facility.
Sampson and Mrs. Owen ordered the staff to prepare his clothes and transportation to DC while he arranged for Mr. Evans to contact a few of the less influential Great Houses that had supported him in the past. Even with the flurry of activity around him, Jonathan phoned as many of his colleagues as he could to solidify his base among those who wielded more power, such as House Du Pont, House Carnegie, and House Griswold. He found it most advantageous that Samuel had saved the life of one of Carnegie’s sons-in-law. Jonathan would have to remember to thank him later, but now he had to say goodbye to Elizabeth before she left to continue her lessons with the medium.
“Looks like someone lit a fire under your butt, little brother.” Hal leaned against the doorway to Jonathan’s study with a smug look on his face. “How does it feel to be humiliated?”
“Hal, I’m not humiliated. This is just business as usual.” Jonathan put the initial ship diagrams into his briefcase and pulled the flap over to close it.
“Getting your name plastered on the front page of the Boston Times isn’t humiliating?” Hal scoffed. “You’ve certainly changed your tune about publicity.”
Jonathan stood up and looked at his brother with utter contempt. “I went to them. Did you even bother to read the story? It was a human-interest piece. Every Middle District shipworker up and down the coast has been submitting applications to work for House Weldsmore. Mr. Evans and the rest of the staff are swamped. I wouldn’t be surprised if we get offers from other countries looking for help to build their navies. This whole enterprise is not only good for House Weldsmore, it’s good for the country.”
Hal chuckled. “You’ve fallen into his trap.”
“Why are you still here?” Jonathan asked. “I thought you’d be off to sponge off of Tillenghast’s distant relatives by now instead of gallivanting around every night club and brothel in town.”
“You really think you’re clever, don’t you? With your spies and informants all over the country. Why do you bother to spy on me? Nothing I do is very interesting.”
“You think I didn’t know that Tillenghast wants to institutionalize your wife?” Jonathan shot back. “Was that the deal? You bring me into the fold and you get to keep your wife at home? Why didn’t you ask for my help?”
Hal’s face turned mottled shades of crimson. “Because I hate you.”
“Selfish idiot. It would have been easy enough to get you and Charlotte out of the country. Go home, Hal. You don’t belong here. You haven’t in a long time.”
As he walked away, Hal put a hand on his arm to stop him.
“Tillenghast wants to centralize all airship and sea vessel production here in the States. If you start setting up facilities in other countries, it makes it harder for him to control.” Hal leaned in closer to whisper in Jonathan’s ear, like a snake slithering in for the kill. “He will push you harder than ever to join him. Don’t wait too long, little brother, before he decides to get really nasty.”
“He’s already tried to kill me once, and that didn’t work.”
Hal sneered. “Idiot. If he wanted you dead then you’d be dead. Otherwise, it was just a feint.”
Jonathan sniffed as he shoved Hal away. “I’ve tried to be kind, considering your situation, but you make it too difficult. You still think if I die he’ll let you run this House? Sampson can do a better job than you.”
“I don’t doubt it. His talents are wasted being your lap dog.”
Fed up, Jonathan lashed out. “Pack your bags. Leave today on the first train or airship back to Chicago. Mr. Rochester may go at his convenience. He at least knows how to behave like a gentleman.”
“He’s just as arrogant as any Great House flunky.”
“At least his arrogance didn’t almost get his entire family killed,” Jonathan snarled at him.
As Hal marched out, he yelled back, “Watch yourself, little brother. Tillenghast will always hit you where you least expect it.”
16
Elizabeth did her best to stay out of her father’s way as he prepared to leave for Washington. To an outsider, he looked serious yet calm and unconcerned, but she could tell he was worried by how his eyes crinkled. It was something no one else would notice but her.
When she overheard his fight with Hal, Elizabeth fled back up to her room until he left.
She had come down to discuss the Abyssinian contracts. It annoyed her that he hadn’t informed her about them, but in all fairness, there had not been enough time. Between setting up a new business, learning how to control her visions, and taking care of her social duties as well as interviewing the families of the missing, life was spinning upside down and sideways. While she fiddled with the drapes, Elizabeth made a mental note to hire a personal secretary as soon as possible.
Movement caught her eye. Sampson hovered at her door with a distinctly guilty expression on his face.
“Sampson! What are you up to?” she asked, giving him a playful smile.
“Ah, I . . . Are you feeling well, miss?” he stammered.
“Never better,” she replied. “But you look like a little boy who broke his mother’s best china.”
“I’ve done no such a thing.” He stood up even straighter than usual. “I’ve come to tell you that Mr. Hunter is finished with his breakfast and the horse carriage is waiting.”
“Did my father say when he was returning from Washington?”
“No, miss. But these proceedings rarely last more than one or two days. The committees usually have their minds made up before anyone arrives. The rest is just going through the motions. Though I’m positive your father has his people lined up to support him.”
“I’d forgotten how well versed you were in Great House and congressional politics.” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “How would you like to be my personal secretary?”
Taken aback, Sampson blinked a few times in surprise. “I’m not sure your father would approve.”
“Let me take care of him. Are you interested or not?”
“No, miss. Not really. I enjoy running the house, and when your father needs a sounding board, I am happy to oblige. As I would with you. Is there perhaps something you’d like to discuss?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. And now that I think about it, you’re overqualified for the position. I need someone to help with not only my personal scheduling but our new detective agency once it gets off the ground.”
“There are several young ladies I can recommend when you are ready.”
“Excellent. Thank you.” Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Where is Samuel? Is he making Mrs. Owen cook another breakfast for him?”
“I heard that.” Samuel poked his head into the room. “And no, I didn’t eat all of her muffins, but lunch made it into the carriage. Mrs. Owen was nice enough to pack one for our driver and guards as well.” He offered his arm to Elizabeth. “Shall we go?”
She strode over and took it, but as she walked out Elizabeth noticed that Sampson looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time and wasn’t sure if he liked what he saw. It disturbed her that the family’s most trusted servant would act that way, and she wondered what she had done to warrant his odd behavior. Had her offer of being her personal secretary offended him? If that was the case, she was determined to find out why. Sampson adored her, and she loved him as if he were her real uncle. It was s
ettled. Tonight when she returned, she would set up a time to have tea with him. Then all would be made right again.
***
When Elizabeth and Samuel arrived at Rachel’s, she noticed a hush had fallen over the tenement whereas before the sounds of life had rung through the doors and walls. It unnerved her.
The door to Rachel’s apartment was open, and Andrew paced inside, stopping every once in a while to peer out the window. The front room had chairs tossed over, a table smashed, curtains torn, and the contents of the cupboard emptied onto the floor. Whatever had happened, it wasn’t good.
Andrew turned when he saw them arrive.
“Someone took her,” he announced.
“Who? Rachel?” Elizabeth asked.
“Aye.” Andrew wrung his hands. “I came a bit early like I always do to talk about what she had planned for you today. But when I arrived, the door was open and she be gone.”
Samuel studied the debris as he inched his way around the room. “Anything missing?”
“They took her jewelry. Wait . . .” Andrew hesitated, then rushed over to the small kitchen and searched through a sea of broken glass and canned food on the floor. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he reached up into the back of the cupboard. He pulled out a tin can that was still sealed. With a resounding pop, he opened it, and several hundred dollars in cash spilled out.
“Whoever it was, they wanted to make it appear like a robbery,” Samuel commented. “Searching everywhere for valuables, but only taking the most obvious.”
Andrew nodded. “That be true. She kept her jewelry box in the other room.”
Elizabeth stepped forward, but Samuel held out his arm to stop her. “Wait.”
He tiptoed around the broken furniture and pulled back the curtain to show that the table had been cleaved in two by what looked like an axe. There was a small amount of blood on the floor. Whoever was bleeding wasn’t dead, but they were hurting.
“It’s all right. You can both come in,” he called out.
Elizabeth entered ahead of Andrew and surveyed the room. It gave her a chill knowing she was so close to violence, although . . . She was surprised to realize another side of her seemed to enjoy the thrill of it. She shoved those ugly thoughts out of her mind as she studied the scene. Something shined next to one of the broken table legs. She walked over and kicked it aside. Underneath laid Rachel’s trinity knot necklace.
“Look!” She picked it up and placed it in the palm of her hand. “She must have lost this in the struggle. What if she was kidnapped by the same men who took the others?”
“It’s possible,” Samuel replied. “But we need more facts. Did she have any enemies? Unsatisfied clients?” He eyed Andrew.
“Aye, there always be one who don’t like the future Rachel spelt out for them or those who she refused to work for. Usually that ended up in a shouting match, not kidnapping. Besides, she be responsible for bringing in food and clothing to the South Side. Most will overlook any grievances for that.”
Elizabeth stepped in front of Samuel. “Rachel was special like the others. It makes sense they would take her. Especially, if they were able to control her in some way.”
“Aye.” Andrew agreed. “If it be those devils, then you two be gettin’ too close to the truth.”
“Which means Elizabeth is in danger.” Samuel grabbed her hand. “We’re leaving.”
She yanked it back. “There is no reason to believe I’m in danger yet. No one knows about my abilities except you, Father, Andrew, and Rachel. As far as anyone else is concerned, I’m here to get my fortune read.”
“Then I say let the police handle it,” Samuel declared.
Both Andrew and Elizabeth looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
Elizabeth placed her hand on his arm with all the gentleness of a loving wife. “Samuel, they won’t care. And if you’re worried about me, may I remind you that we have two very large Irishmen outside who are highly motivated. And I have a very capable ex-Pinkerton husband. I think I will be fine for the time being.”
“If your father . . .”
“I won’t tell him if you don’t,” Elizabeth replied.
Samuel stared at her, his nostrils flared, then sighed. “Fine. But if there is a hint of danger, you’re going home.” He turned to continue examining every detail of their meeting area.
Andrew gestured for her to come back into the other room. Not wanting to cause any more of a fuss, Elizabeth followed.
One undamaged chair leaned against the wall. Andrew righted it and motioned for Elizabeth to sit. Grasping the trinity knot necklace to her chest, she sat down and watched Samuel as he took a small notepad out of his jacket and jotted down notes.
“I could help,” she called out to him. “Isn’t that part of my job as your partner?”
“Not this time.” Samuel’s face softened. “Think of it as training. Detectives do have to learn how to deal with boredom and frustration.”
“Aye, lassie. You might be a wee bit of a distraction,” Andrew added. “Seems like the lad knows what he’s doing, and if he be needing our help, he’ll ask.”
Elizabeth squirmed on the uncomfortable wooden chair. While waiting for Samuel to discover more about Rachel’s disappearance, she realized that she held a clue in her hand—the trinity knot. Rachel may not have lost it in a struggle but left it there for her to find.
With Andrew engrossed in Samuel’s examination of the room, Elizabeth closed her eyes and caressed the trinity knot between her thumb and forefinger. She traced the edges of the charm, taking particular care to notice the ridges and any flaws in the workmanship. The metal grew warm as she rubbed it, while every inch of her mind tried to connect with this object and the woman who owned it in the here and now and not in some future vision.
At first, all she heard was Samuel puttering around in the other room searching for clues—the scratching of the pencil on his notepad and how the soles of his shoes scuffed across the floor. The sounds became louder and louder until they stopped. In the background she noted the faint sound of water dripping. She opened her eyes to discover she was back in the basement where all the missing people were kept.
This time it was different. Everyone milled around like windup dolls with no direction or purpose. They muttered words over and over again that she couldn’t quite make out. Elizabeth tried to move the body she was in, but discovered that her hands and feet were bound to the bed. She jerked on them, but the ropes were too tight and wouldn’t budge.
“Stop it. You be hurtin’ me,” a voice from the person she inhabited whispered. It was Rachel! “I know you’re there. It feels like a bee buzzing around my brain. And I can smell your perfume.” The medium chuckled “This be strange. I wonder if all those you visit feel this way.”
Elizabeth thought the answer was no. So far, only Mary had sensed her presence to the point where she was able to communicate.
Rachel moved her head sideways so Elizabeth could get a better look at the room, but the crowd obscured her view.
“I didn’t see the faces of the men who grabbed me,” Rachel offered. “But they were Irish by the sound and the stench of them. They threw me in a cart with a potato bag tied over my head.” she grumbled. “There be another. Sounded like one of yours.”
Someone from a Great House was involved? Perhaps it was the man whose hand she’d seen helping Abigail up. Could it also be the same man who’d whispered, “Gotcha?” It didn’t make any sense. Why would a Great House kidnap these people?
Her mind swirled with ideas of how to communicate with the medium to get more information, but they all came up short. There was no way to question Rachel in her current state.
The door opened and shut, then footsteps headed in their direction. Rachel closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.
“Wakey, love.” It was the voice of the Irishman whom Elizabeth had seen before.
Cold water splashed Rachel in the face. She sputtered and opened her eyes to see
him leering at her.
“You be a handsome woman. And I hear you not be mad like the rest.” He gestured around him. “Too bad. You will be when he’s done with the likes of you.”
“You idiot! Get away from her!” the same clipped authoritative voice from before yelled at him from across the room. “Cover her eyes! Someone may recognize you.”
There was something about the voice that seemed familiar. Elizabeth racked her brain for where she might have heard it before, but her thoughts were interrupted when a cold, damp cloth landed on top of Rachel’s face, covering her eyes and nose. It reeked of mold and urine. Rachel gagged.
“That makes no sense,” the old Irishman remarked. “Who’s she going to tell if she does know who I am?”
A cuffing sound made her wince.
“Ow! No need to be hittin’ me.”
“Do not question what you don’t understand. Make sure her eyes remain covered,” the younger man ordered. He paused. “Oh, she’s back.” His voice took on a seductive tone.
The sound of footsteps came closer to the bed. Elizabeth recognized the sharp heels of custom-made shoes. A lone finger traced its way from the crook of Rachel’s elbow to the palm of her hand. The restraints on her right arm were released. Smooth fingers lifted it up and caressed the palm before he brought it to his lips. His breath, warm and humid, sent shivers through Elizabeth’s entire body. His tongue flicked across her—Rachel’s—fingertips. Both she and Rachel yanked them away.
He laughed. “That wasn’t for you, Irish whore, but the one who married far beneath her—Elizabeth Weldsmore Hunter.”
If Elizabeth could have gasped, she would have. Whoever this man was, he not only realized she was there, but who she was. Terrified, she did her best to calm herself and focus on the image of the trinity knot in her mind. It calmed her, and she concentrated on returning to her own body. There was a moment of release then something yanked her back.
Boston Metaphysical Society Page 17
