Bloody Lessons: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by Locke, M. Louisa

  Laura walked over and held out the letters. “I would like to believe that, but I don’t have the luxury of believing that her death was an accident. You should ask your friend Thomas Hoffmann. Maybe you will believe him when he tells you that whoever was behind the notes to Hattie hasn’t stopped this filthy campaign, and Hattie may not be the last victim if the person responsible isn’t stopped.”

  *****

  It was slightly past five in the evening when Annie reached Clement Grammar from Girls' High, and Laura was waiting for her on the front steps. The evening had turned chilly and damp. Laura’s wool scarf was pulled up around her ears, and she seemed to be shivering.

  Annie said, “I am sorry I am so late. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

  “No, I just didn’t want to stay inside,” Laura said.

  “Well, a brisk walk will warm you up nicely. We do want to make it home before the sun sets completely, or Beatrice will worry.”

  Annie noticed Laura stiffen and wanted to kick herself for even alluding to the topic of the assault in the alley. Her focus on investigating the anonymous letters had driven that incident temporarily out of her mind, but she was sure it was never far from Laura’s thoughts, particularly on these walks home. Annie had been struck by how uneasy she felt when she left Girls’ High this evening. She realized that she hadn’t been out on her own in the evening since the dangerous events of this past fall, and she was glad that Laura had Barbara and Jamie to walk home with her every day.

  Casting around for a different topic of conversation, she went on to say, “I met your Miss Thorndike today. Very personable. I would say even charismatic. I’m not surprised that they chose her to take over the Normal class. I would expect she’s quite inspiring to young women interested in teaching. Within a few minutes, she had me feeling like I was her closest friend. She also praised you, so of course I liked her!”

  Laura smiled. “Well I don’t know what she would be praising me for. She hasn’t been in to observe me, or Kitty, for that matter, yet.”

  “Well, perhaps Kitty has been praising you to her?”

  “I think that is highly unlikely. That girl is such an enigma; I don’t have a clue what she is really thinking. However, she did ask if she could come to the boarding house tomorrow for some help preparing for the section of class she is teaching for me on Monday. Maybe she will open up more with me then. But, tell me, did you learn anything today about who might have sent the letters about Mrs. Anderson? And how was your first class?”

  As they crossed Jones and turned south towards O’Farrell, Annie briefly recounted how her first bookkeeping class had gone and what she had learned from Della. She concluded by saying, “I think the man who Hoffmann interviewed, and who Miss Thorndike obviously thought was better qualified, is someone worth checking into. I’ll ask Nate to find out if Emory or Mrs. Anderson knows him. If this Jonathan Frazier is still working at the California Theater, and Russell and Hattie attended a performance, then it is possible that he might…Laura, what have I said? What is wrong?”

  Laura had stopped walking, and Annie could see by her face she was very upset.

  “Oh Annie, I saw Russell today. It was awful.” Laura started forward again, and Annie worked to keep up with the younger woman’s long strides.

  “Did you give him his letters back?” Annie asked. “What did he say?”

  “I did give them back to him, but it wasn’t what he said so much as how he looked and behaved. I am so confused. He appears to have aged ten years in the last few weeks, but I can’t decide if that is because of grief or a guilty conscience.”

  “Did you tell him about the anonymous notes?”

  “Yes, and he admitted he knew about them, but he says he only saw the first one. He professed to have no idea who had sent them. The one thing I would swear to is that he doesn’t know a thing about Hattie being pregnant. She must not have told him. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him, either.”

  Annie gave Laura’s arm a squeeze and said, “I know meeting with him was hard, but it’s done now, and there really isn’t any reason you need to talk to him again.”

  “I know. It’s just…I lost my temper when he kept saying there was no reason to try and figure out who sent the notes, that it wouldn’t do anyone any good. I told him Hattie wasn’t the only person to receive notes and he should ask Mr. Hoffmann if he didn’t believe me. I know I shouldn’t have said anything. Nate will be so angry. What if Russell tells Hoffmann details about the notes to Hattie and rumors spread? Russell said Hattie wouldn’t want me to pursue the notes. That I could end up being the one to ruin her reputation. What if he is right?”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Saturday afternoon, January 31, 1880

  "VILLE de PARIS HOLIDAY PRESENTS! In addition to our Large, Fresh and Complete Assortment of LADIES' KID GLOVES, VIENNA AND PARIS LEATHER GOODS, PLUSH TRIMMED CLOAKS & DOLMANS, ENGLISH WRAPS AND SHAWLS, FANCY HOSIERY FOR LADIES AND CHILDREN, A Beautiful Line of Lace Goods, Fichus, Long Scarfs, Handkerchiefs, Barbes, etc, of the very latest designs."––San Francisco Chronicle, 1880

  Laura watched impatiently as Kitty Blaine flicked through the pages of the Third Reader, deciding what essay she should use on Monday to demonstrate the rules regarding commas. This would be the first time Kitty had taught the seventh-grade class on her own, and she was obviously nervous. Laura had surprised herself when she agreed to let Kitty come to visit her on a Saturday. Sitting next to her on the settee in the boarding house’s formal parlor, watching Kitty dither between two different essay choices, she was beginning to regret the impulse.

  Laura poured herself another cup of tea and looked around the room, wondering what Kitty thought of her surroundings. The old parlor had beautiful, dark-oak paneling and furniture that Kathleen kept polished to a high gloss. To Laura, who had grown up in a house on a working ranch and previously lived in threadbare rooming houses, this parlor, with its thick oriental carpet of dark blue and red and its matching velvet curtains, was the height of elegance. But she knew from reading the illustrated magazines that a young woman as wealthy as Kitty, living in a Nob Hill mansion filled with marble, grand paintings, and cut-glass chandeliers, would find this room unimpressive. Della Thorndike had told her that Kitty’s mother had died in her daughter’s infancy and indicated that her father was very traditional and perhaps over-protective of Kitty. Laura wondered what Mr. Blaine thought of his daughter’s desire to become a teacher. Perhaps he was like many parents who assumed that going to school or being a teacher was just something for a woman to do until she married. Which, at this rate, might happen before Kitty ever makes up her mind about which essay to use.

  Laura was just about to say something to hurry the process along when Kitty leaned back and said, “Tarnation,” her eyes filling with tears.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Laura asked, surprised at the oath and the emotion behind it.

  “I’m so stupid. This always happens to me. I’m so afraid of making a mistake, I can’t think.” Kitty swiped at her tears. “I keep hearing my old governess, Mrs. Stone, reciting, ‘The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.’ She was English and a great admirer of Matthew Arnold. But under her tutelage, learning never felt very sweet. That’s why I admire you so much, Miss Dawson. You make learning fun for your students.”

  Laura reached over and patted Kitty’s hand. “Well, I was fortunate that it was my mother who was in charge of my early schooling, and she had a very different philosophy. She’d read some lectures by Cardinal John Henry Newman, who she often quoted, and she would say, ‘A man would do nothing if he waited until he could do it so well that no one could find fault.’ My mother was adamant that I enjoy my education.”

  “Oh my, I don’t think my Protestant governess would be happy with me taking my inspiration from a Catholic,” Kitty said, laughing. “But my Irish Catholic father would be delighted!” She took out her handkerchief and mopped up the remaining tr
aces of tears.

  Laura said, “I will also tell you a secret; I am terrified half the time I step in front of the class. But it gets easier. There is a reason it is called practice teaching, and surely Miss Thorndike has talked to you in your pedagogy classes about telling students that making mistakes is often the best way to learn.”

  “Well…I am not sure that Miss Thorndike ever makes a mistake, but Mr. Russell has said that if I ever want to be comfortable in conversational German, I need to be able to make errors. I am learning so much from him.”

  Laura drew back, disturbed by how Kitty’s words echoed Hattie’s when she’d spoke about Russell. Could Kitty be his newest conquest? Trying to keep her voice neutral, she said, “Miss Thorndike mentioned that you were very good with languages. Are you also a member of the Greek study group he leads?”

  “Yes, we meet most Thursdays after school in a classroom at Girls' High,” Kitty replied.

  “Yes, my friend mentioned these meetings. I assume you met her, Miss Wilks.”

  “Oh, yes. Miss Thorndike told me about…she said that Miss Wilks and Mr. Russell had been engaged…and that we shouldn’t mention Miss Wilks to him…because he is too cut up by his loss. Was Miss Wilks a very good friend of yours?”

  “Yes. We attended San Jose Normal School together. She was my closest friend.”

  “Oh Miss Dawson, I am sorry. I only met her briefly at the Greek study club. I was very impressed. She was picking up Greek very rapidly for a beginning student. Clearly, she was brilliant. She once told me that she intended to become a doctor. Such a tragic loss.”

  “Thank you,” Laura said warmly. “It is good to hear you speak about her. None of my friends here knew her, and, well…it is comforting to know that there is someone else who understands what a fine mind she had.”

  Kitty said softly, “I am sure that Mr. Russell shares your sentiment. Despite what Miss Thorndike said, I think it would do him good to speak of her with someone such as yourself…”

  “No,” Laura said harshly, then tried to moderate her tone. “I am afraid I am not quite the admirer of Mr. Russell that you are. But then I don’t know him that well.” Laura picked up the Third Reader and said, “Either of the essays you have chosen will work equally well; why don’t you just pick the first so we can move on to discussing the rest of the lesson?”

  *****

  Laura wasn’t sure how it came about, but an hour later Kitty and she were walking into the elegant City of Paris department store that filled most of the first floor of the Occidental Hotel. Kitty had responded to Laura’s urging that they get back to planning the grammar lesson by suddenly becoming decisive. Over the next half-hour, she sketched out the rest of her plans for Monday and secured Laura’s approval. She then looked at the clock on the mantel over the parlor fireplace and said her father’s carriage would be waiting for her, so she must go. As she stood up, she’d hesitatingly asked Laura if she would like to accompany her to do some errands.

  “You would be doing me such a favor,” Kitty explained. “Otherwise, I will need to return home and fetch my maid. My father won’t let me go anywhere alone. I know it is an imposition, but I would so enjoy your company. The coachman will take us right to the City of Paris, and he will take you home whenever you wish.”

  Laura had immediately agreed, running up to her room to get her cloak, her purse, and, more importantly, the instructions Miss Minnie had given her regarding the material she needed for the new outfit the elderly seamstresses had promised to make for her.

  So here they now were, walking in the Sutter Street entrance to the store, and Laura felt overwhelmed. She knew the history of the City of Paris, named for the ship from France the Verdier brothers brought to San Francisco in 1850. A ship loaded with the casks of wines, brandy, and champagne, along with boxes of silks, laces, fashionable bonnets, stockings, and petticoats that formed the basis for their mercantile business. But knowing the history didn’t prepare her for how intimidating it was to stand in a cavernous space of polished-wood floors and filigreed plaster columns nearly a block long and half a block wide. The innumerable wooden counters and glass-fronted display cases were arranged in rows resembling city streets. At least she’d had the good sense to put on her one good suit today, the royal-blue cashmere. As a result, she didn’t feel too dowdy compared to the other fashionably dressed women walking up and down the store aisles or sitting at the counters in front of her. Not wanting to feel too much like a country bumpkin, she told Kitty to get her errands done first, hoping that as they made their way around the store she would figure out where she needed to go to make her own purchases.

  Kitty took her arm and said, “I have just a few things, but I am afraid they are scattered around in different departments. This is why I like shopping here, though. You don’t need to go up and down the street looking for different stores. But I do need some new gloves, and that will bring us right next to where they sell fabrics.”

  Laura, pleased that her plan had worked, said, “That would be splendid. Lead the way.”

  Kitty went down a row of counters holding men’s ties and handkerchiefs, then turned to the right and walked rapidly to a section holding books and a variety of other objects. She said, over her shoulder, “I need some plain notepaper and envelopes, and Miss Thorndike suggested that I get some blank books to keep a record of my class preparations. She said that the stationary and book department here had some of different sizes. Oh look, there they are.”

  Laura was stunned by the choices in notepaper, pens, pencils, ink bottles, ink blotters, scrap books, albums, and calendars. She barely knew where to look. She saw a leather-bound diary with 1880 embossed in gold on the front that she instantly coveted, picking it up to see the price, a dollar! Then she noticed a pad of lined paper that she thought looked exactly like the kind on which Hattie’s anonymous letters had been written. The pads were probably sold in every stationary shop in the city, but they were only fifteen cents, so while Kitty was deciding over notepaper, she paid for the diary and the pad of paper.

  As they moved on with their brown-paper packages dangling from strings, Kitty led Laura back through what she called the men’s furnishing section and on to the millinery and handbag department. Hats of all shapes and sizes sat on pedestals around them, some of plain straw that one could decorate oneself, others with elaborate bows, feathers, and artificial flowers, like so many over-decorated cakes. Laura thought to herself that she might return here another day, if she had any money left over after buying the material for her dress, to see if there was a hat that would go with her new outfit.

  Kitty was looking at the handbags and said, “I am afraid I am hard on my purses. My pens tend to leak, so cloth or embroidery just won’t work. What do you think of this black alligator one? It seems well-made, and it has this outside pocket where you can keep your change.”

  Laura dutifully admired the bag’s stitching and the leather-covered handle, trying not to feel too jealous when she compared this to her plain brown velvet purse.

  Kitty suddenly turned to her and gave her a warm smile. “Oh Miss Dawson, this is much more fun than shopping with Marie. She is French and thinks that we Americans have no sense of style. She disparages everything I look at and takes all of the enjoyment out of it for me.”

  Laura smiled in return, glad she had decided to come with Kitty. She said, “This has been a treat for me as well. And I must say, your own taste is impeccable. I am going to depend on you to guide me in my fabric choice. I have a limited amount to spend, and I want to make sure the outfit is something that is versatile and fashionable.”

  Almost an hour later, having finished all the rest of Kitty’s errands and handed over their purchases to one of the clerks for safe-keeping, they got down to the serious business of finding just the right materials for Laura’s new suit. She’d already established with the Misses Moffet that she wanted an outfit with the new long and tightly fitted silhouette that was just coming into vogue, simila
r to the style that Kitty favored.

  Millie Moffet, the silent one of the seamstress sisters, had sketched out a lovely cuirass bodice that would hug her hips, and Miss Millie had suggested that Laura get a light wool material for the bodice and satin for the rest of the skirt, including enough satin to construct large lapels and cuffs to lend some interest to the wool top. The most daring aspect of the outfit was to be the lack of any real bustle beyond a slight fullness created by the horizontal satin pleats in the panel that would fall down the back of the skirt. Kitty announced that the design was charming when Laura showed her the sketch and that she was sure they would find something to fit both her budget and her taste.

  Laura eventually settled on a deep bronze satin and an ivory shade of wool that went well with the bronze and had the advantage of matching the skirt of her serviceable dark brown wool dress. The Misses Moffets had insisted that once Laura purchased the material, they would make the garment for free. She had been reluctant to agree until Annie suggested that she offer to read to them in the evenings while they worked. She was so glad when they acquiesced. Otherwise, she never would have been able to afford such an elaborate outfit. She was carefully figuring the cost of the dark brown lace she had chosen for the trimming, not wanting to spend so much she wouldn’t have enough left over for thread and buttons, when Kitty interrupted her.

  “Look Miss Dawson,” she said, pointing discreetly toward the front of the store. “I think you have an admirer. That young man in the brown tweed suit and brown derby has been staring at you the past few minutes, and I think I saw him several times earlier at different parts of the store.”