Vestige of Power

by Sara Blackard

  Victoria started as a carriage halted next to her. Two men jumped out of the already opened door, the closest one grabbing her upper arm, the other knocking poor Mrs. Leeter to the ground. Victoria’s scream bound in her throat as the intriguing man from the meeting entered the fray. He wrenched the man’s hand from her arm, pushing her behind himself in a protective move. The stranger then twisted the assailant’s arm until she heard a horrible crack and a scream. As the second man came at her rescuer brandishing a knife, her rescuer disarmed the attacker without effort, thrusting his fist into the second man’s face. The assailant fell to the boardwalk, knocked out cold, and the carriage raced away.

  Victoria sucked in a gasp as her savior finally turned to her. His appearance of intense concern kicked her heartbeat up from a galloping horse to the speed of a racing freight train. She wasn’t sure what affected her more, the attack or the man standing before her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, not even winded from the exertion.

  Unable to find her voice, Victoria nodded her head. Her head spun like the time she had looked down after climbing to the top of the large oak in their backyard. She moved her hand to her head and winced at the sharp pain that radiated from where the man had gripped her on her arm.

  “Mrs. Leeter!” Victoria exclaimed, turning to assist Mrs. Leeter, who grunted and wheezed a whistle from where she struggled on the ground.

  The stranger quickly went to the dear older lady and helped her to her feet. He grabbed her hat, the ugly flowers sticking from it horribly disarrayed, and handed it to Mrs. Leeter who still whistled wheezes as she clutched her heart. A slight smile hitched the side of the stranger’s mouth, and Victoria wondered what he found amusing. Mrs. Leeter took her hat with a shaky hand and placed it rather crookedly on her head.

  “Would you ladies permit me to escort you home?” her mystery man asked, extending his elbow for her to take.

  Victoria hesitated, looking to the ground where the men still laid. One writhed in pain on the boardwalk as he clutched his arm while the other lay unconscious at his side. She looked back up at the stranger, thinking it may be more dangerous with him than by themselves.

  “Come, let’s leave this refuse and get you home. I promise, I mean you no harm,” he said.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Mrs. Leeter answered before Victoria could protest.

  Mrs. Leeter slipped her arm in the man’s elbow, then looked at Victoria in expectation. Victoria cautiously placed her hand on his arm. His hard, very muscled arm. He definitely was not a man of society as she was used to.

  “You dispatched those men with no effort,” she said, attempting to keep her voice level.

  “Oh that.” He chuckled. “That was nothing.”

  “I’m Victoria Remming, but I suppose you already know that, and this is Mrs. Abigail Leeter,” Victoria said.

  “Joseph Thomas.” Mr. Thomas smiled over at her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Remming.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, I can assure you,” Victoria replied, glad her voice had found its way from her throat. “Thank you for rescuing us back there. I’m not sure what that was all about. I didn’t think I incited that strong of emotions at the meeting tonight.”

  “You incited a lot of things tonight, Miss Remming,” Mr. Thomas declared with a warm expression in his eyes that turned her knees to pudding and her stomach to butterflies. “But that attack relates to your father, not your impassioned speech.”

  “My father?” Victoria asked, surprised. “Why would my attack be because of my father?”

  Mr. Thomas glanced at her. She knew the look he wore on his face, the one that said he wouldn’t be telling her anytime soon. A look her father often got. A look she often worked around.

  “Why don’t I explain when we get to your home and your father?” Joseph answered, wanting to divert that conversation so he’d only need to explain once. “So, you are a journalist and an activist?”

  “Yes, though I didn’t mean to let out the journalist bit of information.” Miss Remming sighed. “I suppose Mr. Smelling, I mean Snelling, got the better of me.”

  Joseph laughed out loud at her slip of tongue. “Smelling is right. He reeked of pomposity.”

  Victoria snorted a laugh, covering her mouth with her delicate, gloved hand. She looked at him with embarrassment and humor vying for her expression. He grinned like a fool, his heart captured by the intriguing woman at his side.

  Mrs. Leeter tsked on his other side, clicking like the whistle pigs did with their teeth. “It’s a good thing that nonsense finally came out. You know, dear, your journalism days are done.”

  “I would very much like to read your articles,” Joseph stated, choosing to turn attention away from Mrs.’s Leeter’s comment, which had put a crease of sadness upon Victoria’s face. “If they are half as intelligent as your speech, it’s no wonder Smelling pontified Victor Reynold’s excellence.”

  “Have you never read one of her articles? They’ve been brandished all about the city, even the steel workers are reading them,” Mrs. Leeter asked, surprised.

  “I just landed in town this morning.” Literally. Joseph chuckled to himself.

  “And what brings you to our booming city, if I may be so bold?” Victoria asked. She stopped in front of a residence and looked up into his eyes. He’d never realized someone could have eyes such a vivid shade of spring green. Her hair, a beautiful roasted chestnut color, was curled and piled on top of her head like an intricate coil, begging release, one pin at a time.

  “I’m not sure of God’s plans for me in Pittsburgh, but I’m beginning to have a good idea,” Joseph replied, hoping he expressed his intrigue and desire for her in his gaze.

  “Well,” she whispered, “shall we see if Father is back yet? This mystery has me positively on edge.”

  Victoria sighed as a slight blush tinted her cheeks. Mrs. Leeter cleared her throat loudly. Victoria blinked twice and turned towards the residence.

  Chapter 5

  “Good evening, George. Has Father made it home yet?” Victoria asked as she pulled off her gloves and placed them on the side table by the door.

  “He just arrived,” George stated in his clipped tone that most would find rude, but she found endearing, especially since she knew him to be a man who loved deeply but was stoic in nature. “He just sat down in the parlor.”

  “Perfect,” Victoria replied, heading down the hall to the parlor.

  “Victoria, I believe I will retire for the evening. That entire episode has me frazzled,” Mrs. Leeter commented as she headed for the stairs.

  “I understand, Mrs. Leeter. I pray you feel well in the morning,” Victoria answered, turning into the parlor. “Father, I have someone I think you should meet,” Victoria called as she entered the room, the air thick with pipe smoke and the faint smell of brandy.

  Her mother had finished decorating the lavish area shortly before she died. A lush deep green velvet upholstered the comfortable chairs and couch and a dark coffee wallpaper covered the walls, creating a room as cozy as a cave. Her father loved the room because he stated it didn’t encroach on his masculine sensibilities with dainty chairs, rickety tables, and flowers growing up the walls. Victoria loved the room because of the fond memories of curling up on the couch with a book and a single lantern, reading deep into the night of grand adventures on the western frontier until her father would come in and find her sleeping with the book laying on her chest. The room always felt warm and inviting, and she half imagined her mother sitting with them some nights, tsking at her father’s pipe.

  Her father lounged in his favorite chair, an empty brandy snifter resting on the mahogany table next to him and his pipe jutting from his mouth, puffing like the locomotives he owned. His grey hair stuck out in all directions as if he’d run his hands through his hair in frustration. He still wore his red plaid vest, though his tie hung limply from his collar. He folded the newspaper he read, placed it next to his empty cup and rose fr
om his chair with a sigh.

  “How’d your meeting go, dear? I’m so sorry I got called away and couldn’t see you in action.” Her father smiled fondly at her as he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a peck on the cheek, making Victoria wish again that others could see her father as the caring man he was, instead of the stern businessman he presented in public.

  “It went well. My speech seemed well received, though I may have caused a bit of a stir when I accidentally told the crowd I was Victor Reynolds,” Victoria replied sheepishly.

  Her father’s laugh burst from his lips as he threw his head back. “I can’t wait to hear all about it, but first, would you like to introduce your guest?”

  Victoria looked back at Joseph, who glanced between them as his smile grew. She turned her body to include him. He surprised her with how comfortable he seemed in her father’s presence. Most people wore a sheen of nervousness when they met him. Even many he called friends still had a bit of skittishness to them. Did he not know anything about her father, like he hadn’t read any of her articles that had blazed across the city?

  “Father, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Joseph Thomas. Mr. Thomas escorted us home after the meeting. Mr. Thomas, this is my father, Mr. Randall Remming,” Victoria introduced.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Remming,” Mr. Thomas stated as he walked purposely across the oriental rug and shook her father’s hand.

  “Yes, well, the pleasure is all mine,” her father’s eye’s widened in surprise by Mr. Thomas’ confidence. “Please, sit and get comfortable. Can I get you a brandy or some coffee?”

  “Coffee, please. Thank you,” Mr. Thomas answered.

  As her father walked to the cord to ring the housekeeper, he asked, “Now, how did you two meet? I don’t recognize you from our social gatherings.”

  “Mr. Thomas rescued me on my walk home from two thugs bent on whisking me away in their carriage,” Victoria casually stated.

  Her father turned to look between the two of them, a line creasing his forehead showed the concern he kept buried within. Victoria watched as his mouth grew tighter the longer he looked at her. Then he turned his attention toward Mr. Thomas, his eyes narrowed slightly in scrutiny.

  A parlor maid walked into the room, startling slightly at Father standing right in the door.

  “Please bring a cart of coffee and refreshments,” Father commanded in a stern voice without taking his eyes off Mr. Thomas.

  “Right away, sir,” the maid muttered before bowing and leaving the room.

  Her father stalked over to his chair, sat down on the edge, and leveled both Victoria and Mr. Thomas with a stare that succeeded in intimidating her. Mr. Thomas, however, sat with a look of intensity on his own face.

  “Explain yourself, Victoria,” her father commanded.

  As Victoria explained the attack, spending much detail on how deftly Mr. Thomas had neutralized it, her father’s face bloomed into a red rage, while Mr. Thomas’s blushed into a subtle pink. Victoria congratulated herself on finally getting a reaction from the unflappable man.

  “When I stated that I couldn’t believe someone would react so violently to my speech, even with my slip about my journalistic endeavors, Mr. Thomas replied that the attack had nothing to do with me, but everything to do with you, Father,” Victoria finished.

  Her father turned his bulging eyes on Mr. Thomas and spoke in an even voice that strained. “Explain yourself, Mr. Thomas.”

  Mr. Thomas leaned forward in his chair. “Earlier today, I overheard a conversation at the Pittsburgh Trust and Savings Company. Two men discussed how they needed to get the upper hand on you, sir. They decided attacking your only weakness was their only option to get what they wanted.”

  Both men turned to look at Victoria, who pointed at herself and asked in shock, “Me?”

  Mr. Thomas nodded and continued. “They knew by taking you after your meeting, your father would do anything they wanted.”

  As her father nodded, he replied, “Did you see who spoke?”

  “No, they stood in shadows until they left with their backs to me. I hoped the man passing them in the hall would greet them, but he didn’t give me any clue to whom the men were,” Mr. Thomas said as he slid back in his chair with a hint of dejection.

  “So you attended the meeting hoping to thwart their attack?” Victoria’s father asked.

  “I knew God had allowed me to overhear their conversation for a purpose. Since the men never said your name, I figured I’d take myself to the meeting and see if I could intercept them,” Mr. Thomas explained.

  “They were correct in their thinking. If Victoria were taken, I’d do just about anything to get her back,” her father agreed. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you coming to her aid, though I’m sure you had better things to do.”

  At that point the maid rolled the coffee cart in. Victoria rose to intercept her, smiling her thanks. She needed something to do to ground her after Mr. Thomas’ revelation.

  Mr. Thomas shook his head with such sorrow and Victoria’s heart dropped as he asserted, “They weren’t planning on returning her, and if you ask me, they won’t stop because I thwarted them.”

  The cup of coffee slipped from her hand and the floor rushed to her as everything turned black.

  Joseph watched Victoria teeter and jumped from the chair, catching her inches from the floor. He lifted her slight weight into his arms, marveling at how she fit perfect there. A glance at Mr. Remming told him the man hadn’t even registered the problem with him still sitting in the chair, his pipe dangling from his lower lip, which hung wide in shock. The men of this area seemed ill prepared for trouble.

  Joseph placed her on the soft couch, his hand gently lingering on the side of her face. The Lord created a masterpiece when He created her. Joseph thanked Him for letting him help her in her time of need.

  “Will she be all right?” Mr. Remming asked, plucking his pipe from his lips a second before it tumbled to the carpet.

  “I imagine so,” Joseph said, taking one last look at her before returning to his chair.

  Victoria moaned and her eyes fluttered opened. Mr. Remming walked over to her and sat on the edge of the couch. With great care, he brushed her hair back from her face and smiled.

  “Well my dear, I guess the excitement of the day caught up to you,” he declared. “Maybe you should retire for the evening.”

  Victoria pushed her father’s hand away with a huff and sat up, exclaiming, “Absolutely not. I’m not retiring until we figure out why these men are doing this and what we mean to do about it.”

  Mr. Remming sighed so deep it must’ve come from his toes. Joseph smiled at her spunk and grit. Why had some man not snatched her up and married her yet? He understood those of society started grooming their daughters for marriage at a young age. Victoria’s beauty rivaled the most picturesque mountain sunrise and she had to be at least nineteen, so why hadn’t someone reeled her in?

  Joseph mentally shrugged. These men’s idiocy became his gain. His mind stalled on that thought. Could he be contemplating marrying the vivacious Victoria Remming after only knowing her a few hours? No, not contemplating, bound and determined to. He sat up straighter with purpose. Now to figure out how to convince her.

  Victoria grabbed her father’s hand where it sat beside her on the couch and asked, “Father, why are these men trying to get to you? What do they want?”

  Mr. Remming exhaled again and ran his hand through his hair, sending tufts to stick out like a porcupine. He turned on the couch and patted his daughter’s hand. He appeared reluctant to divulge the situation, making the hairs on the back of Joseph’s neck to raise to attention.

  “Some investors and board members feel that without me involved in certain ventures, their rise to fortune would rapidly increase,” Mr. Remming explained. “Right now they are just a vestige of power, but with me out of the picture, they’d access the money I’d leave behind and grasp the power with both hands.”

&nb
sp; Joseph scoffed. “True power comes from the character of a man and the Lord. The amount of money you collect has nothing to do with it."

  Mr. Remming smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes. “I couldn’t agree more, though most in my circle would disagree with you. I can’t give in to their demands. Too many greedy hearts would ruin the companies I’m involved in and crush those laborers who work for us. I work hard to make sure the people whose backs my companies are built on receive a decent compensation for their toils. With me gone, the others would drain the workers dry, asking more of them than reasonable, all for the sake of more profit in their pockets.

  “In the past, others threatened and even attacked me. Their frequency has increased as the years go by. Why, that’s where I was tonight, dealing with a threat that couldn’t wait until morning. But they’ve always focused on me, never on you, my dear.”

  “Why the sudden shift in focus?” Joseph asked.

  “The Pennsylvania Railroad Company will connect a new line to Pittsburgh later this summer. My enemies expect if they can get me off the board of directors and force me to sell my stock, they’ll be in the perfect position when the line opens up more industry than anyone can imagine. If they’re willing to come after you, we need to get you safe.”

  Victoria shrugged. “So we’ll hire someone to protect me.”

  “We’d need to hire an entire team of men to protect you. These men simply will increase the number they hire to take you.” Mr. Remming shook his head.

  “Mr. Thomas could be my bodyguard. With the way he dispatched these ruffians earlier, I’d be perfectly safe,” Victoria said, looking at him in earnest. Joseph tried to keep his chest from puffing like a proud rooster.

  “That could work, at least until we think of something else. What do you say, Mr Thomas, could I hire you to protect my daughter?” Mr. Remming asked, a look of expectation on his face.