Bloody Lessons: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by Locke, M. Louisa

  Annie took up the folder from the bench and pulled out the copy of the first letter to the head of the school board, saying, “I couldn’t help but notice that this letter states that Mrs. Anderson shouldn’t have the position because she didn’t have the appropriate level Certificate, which is one of the reasons Miss Thorndike gave me for why she didn’t think her qualified for the job. And you say she never told you this or urged you to write a letter to the school board?”

  Della became agitated, shaking a slender finger at Annie. “Andrew Russell has nothing to do with any of this. How dare you try to implicate him. See Andrew, I told you, this is a conspiracy on the part of Mr. Hoffmann and this…this…I don’t even know what to call her, dare I say Hoffmann’s mistress, to ruin your good name.”

  Annie found it telling that Della felt the need to convince Russell that there was a conspiracy against him. It confirmed her instinct that Della was behind the letters and that Russell was, at the very most, being used by her. What Annie wasn’t sure of was Della’s motive.

  She decided to use Della’s jibe about Annie being Hoffmann’s mistress to see how Russell would react to the news that she’d made similar statements about Kitty Blaine, by all reports one of Russell’s favorite students. She tucked the letter Della had so conveniently given back to her into the folder. As she took out the letter that had been sent to Kitty’s father, which had been written on a small piece of flimsy notepaper, she saw Della’s eyes widen. It looked like Dorthea Anderson hadn’t told Della that Peter Blaine was now part of the group trying to expose her.

  Annie said, “Miss Thorndike, you can say whatever you want about me, but I do think it was irresponsible of you to suggest that Mr. Hoffmann has behaved improperly with a student. Don’t you agree, Mr. Russell?”

  He suddenly looked alert and said to Annie, “What are you saying about Tom Hoffmann and a student?”

  “I wasn’t the person spreading this rumor; it was Miss Thorndike who said something to me,” she replied.

  Della tugged at Russell’s arm, trying to turn him towards the door. “We don’t need to listen to her any more. Obviously she has no proof of her accusations. Please, let’s go.”

  Russell resisted her and turned back to Annie. “Please, Mrs. Fuller. I confess I am very confused. I know I’ve met you once…at the hospital, and I know you are Miss Dawson’s friend. But I don’t understand what is going on and what your role is in all of this.”

  “I have been asked by a member of the school board to discover who has been trying to create a scandal within the school district by sending anonymous letters. I’d hoped that you and Miss Thorndike, if you were not directly involved, would want to help uncover the identity of the person who is trying to ruin the reputation of teachers like Mr. Hoffmann.”

  “Of course, I see." Nodding at Della, Russell continued, “I am sure Miss Thorndike would be glad to help discover who is out to ruin poor Tom’s reputation.”

  “Oh Andrew, what do you mean poor Tom?” Della snapped, giving his arm a little shake and looking like she would like to box his ears. “He’s not the one stuck working at Clement Grammar under that incompetent DuBois woman. Why won’t you ever speak up for yourself? Hoffmann should have never gotten the job at Girls’ High. That should have been your position. He doesn’t need it, with that wealthy German wife of his and all her father’s political connections. If you’d just made the slightest push to bring yourself forward, then I’d…”

  Della stopped speaking as Russell brushed her hand off of his arm and backed away from her. Della’s words confirmed Annie’s earlier speculations. The letters about Emory, Mrs. Anderson, and probably even Barbara Hewitt, were all designed to get Hoffmann fired so Russell could take his position. But why? Did Della think this would further her own career? That a grateful Russell, once in Hoffmann’s position, would give her the Normal class permanently? Or was his gratitude supposed to result in an entirely different kind of offer?

  Russell’s air of distracted confusion was now gone, and he said, “Mrs. Fuller, please go on. Just what is Hoffmann being accused of?”

  “Kitty Blaine’s father received this letter saying that Mr. Hoffmann had seduced his daughter.” Annie waved the letter, watching Della blanch. “You can imagine how upset he is. I wanted to ask Miss Thorndike about this because she had mentioned something similar to me.”

  Della reached out to Russell and pleaded, “You mustn’t believe her. All I did was express my concern that I had heard rumors that Hoffmann was trying to take advantage of Kitty. Miss Blaine is one of my students, and I was looking out for her.”

  “But Miss Thorndike, surely you must realize that even repeating such a rumor could damage the reputations of both the teacher and the student,” Annie replied. “And, as far as I can tell, you’re the only one who has expressed such a concern. Miss Blaine isn’t even in any of his classes this semester, nor in the science club.”

  Annie looked directly at Andrew Russell and said, “You see, Mr. Russell, I thought if Miss Thorndike isn’t the person who wrote this letter, she would be willing to tell me where she got the information or to whom she might have passed it on. That might help me track down the source of these nasty rumors.”

  Russell took Della’s hand and said, “Do tell her what she wants to know. I know you’ve always disliked Tom, but can’t you see how important this is? Just think of what damage a rumor of this sort could do to Miss Blaine and her future. She shows such great academic promise. I believe Miss Blaine could go on to the University, have a career in languages. She really is one of the finest linguists I have encountered in my years of teaching, and…”

  Della cut him off, spitting out, “Rubbish. Once again you have been misled by a pretty face. Don’t you see Miss Blaine is nothing but the tricked-out daughter of a common Irish barkeep, giving herself airs? Do you think that some over-paid English governess can undo what centuries of in-breeding and pig-farming have done to creatures like her?”

  Annie was shocked by the venom in Della’s voice and by the overt nativism of her sentiments. This certainly seemed to rule out the possibility she was working for Buckley or any of the Democrats. She realized that now was the time to find out if any Republican political elements were part of Della’s schemes.

  Raising her voice, she said, “So is that why you picked on Kitty, because you thought that her father would use his Democratic Party connections to get Hoffmann fired? You must have been frustrated when none of your letters to the Republicans on the school board produced any action.”

  “The Republicans are no better than the Democrats in this city, up for the highest bidder,” Della said, disgustedly. “Frau Hoffmann and her husband got to dine with President Grant when he came to visit, but we had to buy a ticket to stand among the unwashed to see him from afar. It just wasn’t right, and…”

  “Della, what are you saying?” Russell said urgently, moving in front of her to block her off from Annie’s sight. “Are you saying you did write to these men and make accusations about Tom? Is Mrs. Fuller correct? You wrote an anonymous letter about Miss Blaine to her father. Why ever would you do that?”

  “I did it for you, and it worked. I finally got their attention. Don’t you see that now they’d better do what is right and promote you, or I will make sure everyone hears about…”

  “Della, don’t say another thing. Libel is a serious offense. You know what happened last fall when Cleary made unfounded accusations against the superintendent and some board members. It ruined his career. We need to straighten this out. I am sure if you apologize and explain you were misguided…”

  Annie moved closer, worried that she wouldn’t be able to hear what Della said next.

  Della’s voice sounded calm and confident as she said, “Andrew, you poor man, don’t worry. They have no proof. Some anonymous letters, which could have been written by anyone. Do you really think that Mr. Emory or Peter Blaine would ever let this come to a public investigation or trial? Cleary w
as a fool to make a public accusation.”

  Annie wished she knew for sure that someone else besides herself was hearing all of this. Della was right. They wouldn’t want to make this a public scandal. Yet, if she could convince Della that there was proof and get Russell to agree to testify that he’d heard her confess to writing the letters, then Della might be persuaded to stop the letter-writing campaign.

  She reached out and tapped Russell on the shoulder. As he turned around, he stepped to the side, revealing Della, whose pink cheeks were still the only sign of how upset she was.

  Annie said, “Actually, Mr. Russell, there is proof. If you will come over and examine this ream of composition paper I discovered in Miss Thorndike’s classroom, you will see what I mean.”

  Annie drew Russell over and pointed to the pile of paper she’d pulled out of her folder. “Can you see this spot of ink that has bled through this stack of composition paper? If you look closely at these notes to Miss Hattie Wilks, which I believe you have already seen, you will notice the same ink spot. That, plus the fact that these notes, and this note to Mr. Blaine, close with the same statement, ‘A Concerned Citizen,’ make a pretty convincing case that they were both sent by Miss Thorndike, who had access to the composition paper and a motive for attacking both young women.”

  Annie stopped and waited as Russell looked at the material in front of him. He pushed irritably at the shock of hair that fell into his eyes, and he suddenly looked quite ill. She had gotten so caught up in the struggle to get Della Thorndike to expose herself, she’d ignored how personally devastating this all was going to be for Russell. She was asking him to accept that a close friend and trusted colleague had been the one to cause him and the woman he loved so much pain. She started to tell him how sorry she was to be the one to break this news to him, when she felt a hand grip her shoulder and wrench her away from the table.

  “Andrew, give me those papers!” Della shrieked. She let Annie go and pushed towards the table, reaching out for the documents on it. Russell turned and grabbed Della by the upper arms, holding her off as Annie darted forward and scooped up the folder and the notes and held them to her chest.

  Della struggled, trying to break away from Russell. “Andrew, let me go. You don’t understand; I must have those papers. It would be the ruin of both of us. Get them from her.” A strand of Della’s hair slipped down into her face, and her mouth distorted in anger.

  Russell continued to hold her at arm’s-length, giving her a little shake. “Why did you write those notes to Hattie? How could you do that to her?”

  “How could I do that to her? What about me? I’ve done everything for you, sacrificed everything for you. You were the one who said that people such as ourselves were married to our professions, to our callings. I was content to watch you progress in your career, basking in the knowledge that I had done my part to smooth your way. Then that Hattie Wilks waltzed in, and all your principles went out the window, leaving me with nothing.”

  Della’s eyes filled with tears, and after a moment Russell let his hands drop. With sadness, he replied, “Oh, Della. I know what a good friend you have been to me. I did mean it when I told you I didn’t expect to marry. But I fell in love with Hattie. I didn’t plan it. It just happened.”

  “Oh, my dear, Andrew. I know you didn’t plan it.” Della wiped her tears and rested her hands gently on his chest. “You’re such an innocent. As soon as I heard you had agreed to marry her, I went to plead with her not to ruin your career. But then I saw she had seduced you, and I understood how clever she’d been.”

  Russell stiffened and in a tight voice said, “What do you mean, seduced me?”

  “Well, I suppose the child might not have been yours. When I suggested as much, she got quite indignant. Little whore. She became so upset that I almost believed her. But no matter; it all worked out all right in the end.”

  Annie’s skin crawled as she watched Della throw her head back with an arrogant little smile. This must be what Hattie meant when she told Laura that her fall was ‘no accident’ and that she was ‘pushed,’ she thought. And here was Della, practically admitting she was the one who had pushed her.

  Russell looked like he had been hit with a sledgehammer. When Della tried to tuck her arm through his, he pushed her away violently and said, “Don’t you touch me. What do you mean, everything ‘worked out’? Hattie died. And you are telling me now that she died carrying my child? Did you kill her?”

  “Oh Andrew, don’t be so dramatic. It was an accident; she slipped. It wasn’t my fault. Besides, I don’t think that anyone is going to want to reveal that little ‘Miss Perfect’ was pregnant when she died. Even that obnoxious friend of Miss Wilks, Laura Dawson, wouldn’t want that.”

  Putting her hand out to pat his arm, Della said, “So now, we just need to convince Mrs. Fuller to hand over the documents, and we can go about our business.”

  Russell looked at her with horror, plucking Della’s hand from his arm as if it were a noxious insect. “‘Go about our business.’ You must be mad! There is no ‘we.’ There never was, and there never will be. You killed the only woman I will ever love. I never want to see you again as long as I live. ”

  As Russell started to walk away, Della’s eyes widened, and another one of those chillingly arrogant smiles appeared. Before Annie could register what was happening, Della had reached out and grabbed one of the glass beakers on the table beside her and swung it in an arc towards Russell’s head. Annie’s cry gave him an instant’s warning, and the glass shattered over the hand he put up in defense. Annie started towards Russell, but Della launched herself at her back, bringing the two of them toppling to the ground. Annie felt a sharp pain in her left hand when she landed on the glass-covered floor. She tried to scramble to her knees, but the weight of Della sprawled on her back kept her from rising.

  In moments, the weight was lifted. As she struggled to rise, Thomas Hoffmann appeared beside her and helped her to her feet. She saw that Emory was trying to staunch the blood coming from multiple cuts on Russell’s hand, while Peter Blaine held a weakly struggling Della in a crushing embrace.

  Blaine gave her a wide smile and said, “Gracious me, Mrs. Fuller, that was well done. I’m not sure I could have handled it better myself. But do let Hoffmann take you home. I think Emory and I can take care of things from here on.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  Early Saturday evening, February 14, 1880

  "It has been a few years since nothing was to be had in Valentines but the vulgar, comic, or tawdry tinsel and lace-paper affairs of foreign manufacture." ––San Francisco Chronicle, 1881

  “That should do it,” Mrs. O’Rourke said, putting the last strip of sticking plaster on the gauze bandage that covered the two small cuts on Annie’s left hand. “And now my dear, let Kathleen fix your hair. I have to go down and see if Mrs. Hewitt and Miss Laura have returned with the promised fish for supper.”

  As the bedroom door closed behind Beatrice, Annie gave Kathleen a broad smile and said, “I can’t believe that she didn’t scold me more.”

  Kathleen laughed. “Yes, ma’am. But if she ever gets a chance to meet that Mr. Blaine, he’s in for a tongue lashing for sure. She was that upset to learn a tough Irishman let a lady do his dirty work for him.”

  “I’m just glad it is all over and that I could help. I don’t relish telling Laura what I learned about her friend’s death. Or how wrong she was about Andrew Russell.” Annie sighed and closed her eyes, letting Kathleen brush out her hair and re-pin it. She hoped that Nate would get here soon so they could tell Laura together.

  After finishing with Annie’s hair, Kathleen took the brown polonaise down to the kitchen to clean, deploring the spots of blood she found on the skirt. Finally alone, Annie stood and checked herself in the mirror over the mantel. She’d put on her good navy, which, apart from the new dress she wore to the theater, was still her best dress. She smoothed down the Basque-styled bodice that fit snugly over her hips an
d turned around to make sure the heavily draped silk folds of the overskirt were secured tightly to the back of the bodice. She saw that Kathleen had newly starched the lace at her collar so that it stood up to frame her face, which looked very pale and tired. She pinched her cheeks a little, but that simply reminded her of Della, and she turned away, pulling the lace at her wrists down to see if it would cover the bandage. It didn’t.

  Looking impatiently at the clock that said it was only fifteen minutes after five o’clock, she sighed. The time between Della’s and Russell’s entrance to the Chemistry lab and Della’s vicious attack had been less than a half hour, but Annie felt as if she had been engaged in a form of mental combat for hours. At the time, she’d been carried along by sheer nerves. Now, several hours later, she was exhausted. She wanted Nate to be here. She wanted to tell him everything that had happened, even the things she had withheld from Beatrice and Kathleen. She wanted him to take her in his arms and reassure her that what she had done this afternoon was necessary, even if it meant adding to Andrew Russell’s already considerable pain.

  She took the small vase of Nate’s violets off the mantel and smelled their sweetness. Then she wandered over to the table and picked up the valentine she had made for him. She’d worked on it off and over the past few days, enjoying fashioning the hearts out of red paper and arranging them with bits of ribbon on top of the white card stock. On the blank side, she had copied out a poem by Charlotte Richardson, a writer unknown to Annie but good enough to have been included in one of Laura’s literature text books:

  Custom, whose laws we all allow,

  And bow before his shrine,

  Has so ordained, my friend, that you

  Are now my Valentine.

  Annie felt the verse, while certainly conveying her affection, was safe. Something she could send a very good friend without embarrassing either the recipient or herself.