The Bachelor’s Bride: The Thompsons of Locust Street

by Holly Bush

  “When Mr. Pendergast was here yesterday, Aunt Murdoch was accommodating, as if she had some grand plan in her head, and kept him here longer than it would be necessary for him to return my bag. Then one of us mentioned the canning business and he glanced around the room, taking the parlor and its decorations all in, and mentioned that it must be successful. Aunt hurried him out of the house as if he’d begun speaking a Catholic mass.”

  “Like she didn’t want to talk about the canning business? How odd.”

  Elspeth straightened and realized she did not want to voice her thoughts on the subject of money to her younger sibling. There was too much likelihood that she was imagining things, and she would only worry them. “Go now. I’ll get dressed and meet you in the kitchen. We’ll drink our tea and peel beets until our hands are stained, and we’ve got a new grocer to sell to also. Perhaps we’ll go this afternoon.”

  Elspeth rinsed her face with the warm water that Kirsty had brought her and brushed through her thick hair, pausing to rub her finger over the engraving on the back of the ivory. Muireall and Kirsty had a comb-and-brush set just like hers with the same shield and sword etched into it. She’d wondered over the years how her family paid for such extravagant things. She’d seen the high price of a comb-and-brush set at Wanamaker’s Department Store on Market Street when she’d gone there with her friend Cecilia Delasandro, and that set had not been as nice, nor was it etched.

  But as they were comfortably situated in their home, she’d not thought all that much about how all those comforts came about until recently. It was almost as if Aunt Murdoch had not wanted her to speculate on Mr. Pendergast’s comments, but it did not matter. She was speculating, especially now as she’d come to some understanding of their business’s finances. How was this house paid for? And all the furnishings? How did they pay Mrs. McClintok’s salary? James couldn’t make enough in prize money . . . or could he?

  What had they lived on when they first arrived in the New York harbor after a ten-day steamer voyage from the Port Charlotte dock in Scotland? The days before her parents’ death had been the grandest adventure of her nine-year-old life, and of course she’d never questioned the price of the hotel they’d stayed in or the meals delivered to their rooms once they’d arrived at their destination. She’d never questioned Muireall or Aunt Murdoch when they’d set out from New York City on a train, their baggage and trunks handled by uniformed porters. She’d been too sad, far too wrapped in a child’s grief to wonder about any of the realities of life. She missed her mother and father with an ache those long weeks, and she could still feel the lump in her throat and the panic on some occasions even to this day.

  By afternoon, her hands were bright red and her fingers were sore. They’d boiled, skinned, and chopped bushels of fresh beets, and the storeroom was still full. James and Mrs. McClintok’s son, Robert, would put the beets and boiling water in the Mason jars all evening, top them with the shoulder seal lid, and boil the jars for thirty minutes. Payden dried the jars and fixed the labels on them. The kitchen was steamy with two stoves burning and all the heat from the boiled water. Elspeth was glad to escape.

  Once bathed and in clean clothes, she found Kirsty talking to Muireall.

  “Come along,” she said. “If we’re to talk to this new grocer before they’re closed, we’d best be on our way.”

  Muireall looked up from her account book. “Do you have a list of what we have on hand? I’d like to sell those jars from last fall, even at a lower price, before the new crops are here and we’re putting up fresh items.”

  “I have a list,” Elspeth said. “Mrs. McClintok said the beans from last fall were still very nice. I was going to take a few jars to this grocer. What is the name of the store, Kirsty?”

  “Flemming’s Market. It’s near City Hall.”

  “City Hall? That far? We’ll have to take the trolley,” Elspeth said.

  “Do you have coins?” Muireall asked. “I have cash money in the safe.”

  “We’ll be back before dark unless we meet with some handsome young men!” Kirsty said as she pulled tight the ribbons on her hat.

  Muireall shook her head, and Elspeth smiled as she followed her sister out the door.

  Alexander dropped the files he’d been reviewing into the drawer of his desk, locked it, and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. It had been a particularly long day preparing for the city council meeting scheduled for the following week. He pulled on his jacket, picked up his leather satchel, and said good night to the office secretary, Bert Kleinfeld.

  He left on a happy note, knowing that at least this evening he would not have to attend any functions for Schmitt or for his own family. He loved his mother and father dearly, and his sister too, but he was heartily tired of their matchmaking. Every time he accepted an invitation for dinner at his family home, there was a young woman who just happened to be visiting his sister. They were all lovely women, it seemed to him on a short acquaintance, but none of them sparked any interest to pursue them further. They were pleasant conversationalists and pretty in their own way, but he was unable to tell one from another.

  Alexander chuckled to himself, thinking how angry his sister, Annabelle, had been when he could not remember who Miss Sabine was and had confused her with Miss Franklin. They were both dark-haired, well-spoken, and wore the same type of dress, although Miss Sabine’s had been green and Miss Franklin’s rose colored. Or did he have that backward? He crossed the street to the stables where his carriage and driver awaited. He was looking back over his shoulder at a dog barking madly when he ran directly into someone and reached out a steadying hand.

  “Oh! Oh! I’m so terribly . . . Miss Thompson?”

  “Mr. Pendergast?”

  He stepped back quickly as he’d pulled her toward him to steady her, and she, for just a moment, a blinding and arousing moment, was against his body from breast to knee. She was staring at him, her mouth open in a round O. He stared back, unwilling to break the connection and unable to stop his heart from beating in his ears. This woman sparked his interest . . . and more. Someone cleared their throat, and both he and Miss Thompson turned their heads.

  “Are you going to introduce me properly, Elspeth?”

  “Oh yes, yes,” she said, clearly flustered, her cheeks red. “Mr. Pendergast, this is my youngest sister, Miss Kirsty Thompson.”

  The young woman smiled and put her hand out to shake. He nodded and took her hand.

  “I won’t try and squeeze the life out of your fingers like our brother did last week,” she said.

  “Kirsty! Were you eavesdropping?”

  “No. But Mrs. McClintok was peeking through the sliding door since Aunt Murdoch had told her to stay close by. She told me.”

  The elder Miss Thompson widened her eyes at her sister. “Kirsty! Please! Mr. Pendergast is going to think we are the worst sort of gossips.”

  Alexander would have laughed at the pair of them, at Elspeth’s outrage and her sister, giddy and not the least bit ashamed, but he couldn’t. Miss Elspeth was embarrassed, and he would not cause her any undue concern.

  “Please don’t worry on my account,” he said with a smile. “I was nearly ready to flinch. Your brother showed mercy at the last moment.”

  “It seemed to me that you gave as good as you got,” Miss Elspeth said.

  He couldn’t help but preen a bit. To stand a little straighter and push his shoulders back. “Did you think so?” he asked.

  She nodded and glanced away.

  “What brings you downtown to City Hall, ladies?”

  “We visited with a grocer who is interested in our jarred goods.” Miss Kirsty pointed. “Right there. Right across this street. We’re waiting on the trolley to get home.”

  “Allow me to see you both home,” Alexander said. “My carriage and driver are inside this livery.”

  “Oh no,” Miss Elspeth said. “We could never inconvenience you. The trolley will be here any minute.”

  “It
’s no inconvenience at all, ladies.”

  “Then we accept,” Miss Kirsty burst out. “Lead on, Mr. Pendergast.”

  “Stay right here,” he said. “I’ll retrieve my driver.”

  Once both sisters were settled on the forward-facing seat, he sat down opposite them and settled his case beside him. “So tell me about your visit to Flemming’s Market.”

  “It’s a much larger store than I’d imagined. I’m not sure we could supply the amounts they are interested in,” Miss Elspeth said.

  Miss Kirsty shrugged. “Muireall will want to do it. She’ll figure out a way.”

  “Muireall?”

  “Our eldest sister. She and our brother James manage the business. Kirsty, Payden, and I do as we’re told.” Miss Elspeth smiled with a shrug.

  “A tough taskmaster, is she?” Alexander asked.

  “No. Not tough, it’s just that . . .” Miss Kirsty trailed off.

  “She’s been in charge of our family with Aunt Murdoch since she was twelve, when our parents died,” Miss Elspeth said and raised one brow. “One hates to disappoint her.”

  He nodded. “There is a look my mother gives me that is worse than any beating my father could administer or any embarrassment concerning Mr. Schmitt. I’ve gone to some extremes to avoid that look from her.”

  “She is special to you, then?” Miss Elspeth asked.

  He looked at her directly. “I’m very lucky to be her son. She’s the center of the family. She’s our foundation.”

  How jealous she was momentarily! Her teeth clenched and her good humor fled as she stared at him. But to be envious that a man loved his family, particularly his mother? How petty she was being. Certainly, she had enough grace in her heart to be glad for him, even if the pain of missing her parents still stung. There was one question, though, that she could not contain.

  “What does she think of you working for Mr. Schmitt?”

  “An arrangement was made between Schmitt and my father,” he said.

  “She wasn’t in favor of it?”

  He shook his head. “But she did understand Father’s reasoning.”

  “I will admit that I don’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a shrug and looked out at the buildings that were passing by in a blur. “I don’t understand why you would want to work for a man such as him. It’s not even all about his visit to that . . . that house.” She turned her head and looked at him. “He was crude and cruel and violent that day. You are nothing like him, I don’t think.”

  “I’m not like him. But I do work for him.”

  “He must pay you quite well to afford a fine carriage such as this.”

  Pendergast shook his head. “No, he does not pay me enough to afford this. This is a family carriage I use on occasion.”

  “No need to explain yourself to me,” she said, realizing how ridiculous she sounded as she said it since she’d been the one to bring up the subject in the first place.

  Kirsty giggled and then laughed outright. “If Aunt Murdoch heard this conversation, you’d be in your room for a week!”

  They’d pulled up to 75 Locust Street, and Elspeth felt her face color. “That was rude of me, Mr. Pendergast. My apologies.”

  And then he smiled a full-face smile, and his eyes twinkled. “We have a tendency to argue when we meet, Miss Thompson, but I confess I enjoy it.”

  He jumped out of the carriage and signaled the driver to stay where he was. He offered his hand to Kirsty, and she slipped away into the house. Elspeth watched as he put his hand out again to her and looked at him, her heart pounding. Why did he make her feel this way? They did argue, yet she agreed with him: she enjoyed it too. He was staring at her now, their eyes connected, his hand offering a steady anchor as she climbed down. When she straightened near him, she could smell some masculine fragrance, and she felt a shiver trail down her spine as his eyes dipped to her lips for just a moment. He was dangerous, and she was unsure why that word came into her head, but that was the word to describe this. Whatever “this” was, she wanted nothing to do with it or how she felt at this moment.

  “Thank you, Mr. Pendergast.”

  “May I call on you another time?”

  “I’m very busy with our family business and other obligations,” she said as she turned toward her door. “But thank you for bringing us home today. My sister and I appreciate your kindness. Good day to you.”

  Muireall was waiting inside and glanced outside as Elspeth passed her, as if to be sure he was really gone.

  “What did Mr. Pendergast want with you?”

  “He saw us near City Hall and offered to bring us home,” she said as she pulled her straw hat from her head.

  “I mean now, Lizzie, as you stood staring at each other on the street in front of everyone traveling by and our neighbors too,” Muireall said.

  It was then she realized that her older sister was angry. “We did not stand and stare at each other.”

  “You did,” Muireall hissed. “Aunt should have never encouraged him.”

  “Aunt did not encourage him, nor did I. In fact, when he asked if he could call another time, I said that I was far too busy. You’re being ridiculous, Muireall.”

  “I am not being ridiculous! We don’t know him. He could be insinuating himself into our family for purposes we’re unaware of. He could be dangerous to us!”

  “Dangerous?” she asked quietly, in contrast to Muireall’s excitement, as she noted the bright red color of her sister’s cheeks. She did not believe the danger she had felt was the same as what her sister imagined. Muireall’s eyes had slid away and she was breathing heavily, her shoulders lifting with each intake of air. “What is so dangerous about him?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “There is nothing to tell.”

  “What are the secrets between you and Aunt? Where does our money come from?”

  Muireall’s eyes widened. “Just stay away from Pendergast. Remember your family. The Thompsons. After all, family is all one has.”

  “Of course our family comes first,” she said. “And I’m part of that family, but perhaps not ‘part enough’ to be privy to all its secrets.”

  Chapter 4

  Alexander stood as the visitors filed out of Mr. Schmitt’s office, having been told by Bert that Schmitt would want to see him as soon as the men left. They were a strange trio he’d never seen before, glancing around surreptitiously left to right as they left, all settling their eyes briefly on him. He waited until they passed his desk and went to Schmitt’s office.

  “Mr. Kleinfeld said you wanted to see me when your guests left. What can I help you with, sir?”

  “Sit down, Pendergast.” Schmitt smiled.

  Alexander did not trust his boss in general, but even less so when that man smiled. It inevitably meant there was something unpleasant happening, or about to happen, at City Hall that he would be tasked with fixing. He sat in the leather chair facing the desk and waited while Schmitt stared out the window, shuffled a few papers, and eventually settled on him.

  “I need you to gather some information for me. You’ve done that before and been very good at it,” he said, adding the rare compliment.

  “Thank you, sir. I’m assuming you would like to know more about this Berline fellow who has been recently appointed to the Gas Trust. I’ve done some checking already and—”

  “We’ll worry about Berline later,” Schmitt interrupted. “This has more to do with a personal favor. I’m sure you won’t mind.”

  The last time he’d been tasked with a personal favor it had been to investigate a woman who had been seeing Schmitt’s son socially. Schmitt was convinced she was not what she seemed—a young, vibrant woman—but rather he’d believed the gossip that she was a person of questionable morality with several lovers in her past. It had been an unpleasant task, especially since Schmitt would not believe that the rumors about the woman were
untrue. Fortunately for the young woman, she had realized what a toad Schmitt’s son was before marrying him.

  “What kind of personal favor, sir?”

  “Now don’t fret, young Pendergast. I think you’ll find your task pleasant enough.”

  “What are you asking me to do?”

  “There’s a family in our city I’d like to know a little more about, and I think you’re acquainted with one of the daughters. It will be no hardship to get know her. Answer some questions about her and her siblings.”

  Alexander thought about all the young women of Philadelphia that had been thrown in his path as of late, courtesy of his mother and sister, and wondered if it was one of them. He certainly did not want to raise any expectations where there was no interest on his side, but perhaps the information could be gained quickly, in a few outings that he could easily get his sister to arrange.

  “Who is the daughter, sir?”

  Schmitt looked down at the papers laid out on his desk. “Elspeth Thompson,” he said and looked up. “She was that fireball that interceded when that whore talked back to me. She was no hardship to look at. You’ll have no trouble charming her.”

  Alexander knew that his face betrayed his surprise, and he quickly regulated his posture and countenance. It was critical that Schmitt did not gain any advantage. “What could you possibly want to know about the Thompson family?”

  “Don’t worry about it, boy. You just take her on a few outings, and I’ll give you some direction then.”

  “She’s already told me she is not interested in seeing me socially.”

  Schmitt lifted his brows. “So you’ve already begun to pursue her. Excellent!”

  “As I said, she’s not interested in seeing me. I don’t plan on embarrassing her or myself. I’m sorry, Mr. Schmitt. Without any information about how this would be a benefit to yourself or to the city, I’ll have to decline your request.”