The Bachelor’s Bride: The Thompsons of Locust Street

by Holly Bush

  She stood, straightened her skirts, and smiled. “I’ll be fine. I can still see my stoop from here. Good day to you.”

  “Wait,” he said without the foggiest notion of what he was going to say as he hurried to her. He swallowed. “I would like, very much I would like, to speak to you again. At your convenience, of course.”

  She tilted her head and studied him. He waited for her to speak for what seemed like hours, though it was certainly no more than a minute.

  “My sister and I will be visiting the outdoor market on Bainbridge and Second Street on Saturday. There are several vendors there who may be interested in our goods. We’ll be there around ten to miss the early morning traffic and those shopping at noontime so we’ll have time to speak to the stand holders.”

  He smiled. “I hope you have a successful day.”

  “We hope so too,” she said and turned to continue walking down the street toward her home.

  Chapter 6

  On Saturday, Elspeth and Kirsty walked the six blocks to the market on Bainbridge, taking turns pulling the wagon loaded with Thompson jarred goods. It was a beautiful morning after several days of rain and cold winds that had kept them in the house.

  “So I said to Mrs. Cartwright, you must dye your dresses pink and fashion large flowers in paisley silk to adorn the hat. I thought she might paint her walking boots lavender to match,” Kirsty said.

  “Oh. Oh yes. That sounds very nice,” Elspeth said.

  “She’s going to purchase a donkey and paint him pink too. She thought it would be nice to parade up and down Locust Street on a donkey that matched her dress.”

  “A donkey that matched her dress?” Elspeth asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Would it matter what I was talking about, dear sister? You were a hundred miles away in your thoughts. What, or maybe who, could be distracting you so?” she asked with a smile.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Elspeth said, staring straight ahead.

  “Of course you don’t! You are too busy dreaming about Mr. Pendergast!”

  “I am not dreaming of Mr. Pendergast! I barely know him, and I didn’t have a good impression of him when we were first acquainted.”

  “You sat on the bench in front of the park for a full half hour, Elspeth.”

  She turned her head sharply. “Surely it was not half an hour! I can hardly believe that.”

  “Believe what you will, Elspeth. You sat with Mr. Pendergast for thirty-two minutes. Mrs. McClintok and I watched the clock.”

  “Mrs. McClintok?”

  “She was the one who originally opened the door, of course. She was as concerned about you as I was.”

  “Mr. Pendergast was a perfect gentleman. We were never in private to fuel someone’s speculation,” Elspeth said. “He was upset and just wanted to talk. That’s all.”

  “Let us hope no one tells Muireall. Here’s the market, and there is the first stall on our list. Come along,” Kirsty said.

  But Elspeth had not moved. She swallowed and looked at her sister. “I feel as though I’ve betrayed her somehow, and I don’t even know why.”

  “Muireall? She’ll probably never know. Come now. Everyone will be more likely to overlook some lapse if we come home with a long list of new customers.”

  “Where are we going again?” Annabelle Pendergast asked her brother.

  “We’re going to an outdoor market on Bainbridge Street.”

  “Why in the world do we, and especially you, need to go to an outside market? Am I to believe that you need to purchase your own foodstuffs? What is Mrs. Emory going to say?”

  Alexander’s housekeeper had the running of his bachelor town house and all the staff other than Baxter, his butler, from cleaning to meal planning and even decorating. There was no denying to his sister that the woman ran a tight and organized ship and would never have sent her employer out to purchase beans or coffee or a leg of lamb. She would be mortified if she knew.

  “I just thought we might enjoy spending some time together, that’s all.”

  “They told me. You needn’t wonder. I know.”

  Alexander drove the two-seat gig with his sister beside him, holding her bag on her lap. He glanced at her and lifted the ribbons to get his carriage horse moving.

  “I heard you were very upset,” she said.

  “I was. Weren’t you? We had a brother, Annabelle. Father had . . . well, Father was the father.”

  She smiled. “They had intimate relations, Brother. I know how babies are made.”

  “Well. I was always told that unmarried women did not know the particulars.”

  “Mother told me years ago. Not long after I was old enough to go to parties and outings with other young women and men. It was for my own good, you know,” she said. “It’s hard enough discerning the men interested in me and the men interested in my money, let alone which of them are merely trying to get me into their bed.”

  Alexander shook his head. “I don’t want you to be duped by a man with less than honorable intentions, but isn’t that exactly what Father did? Wasn’t he less than honorable to Mother? To this woman?”

  “Her name is Evelyn McMillan, née Gaines. She married a mason not long after our brother died, has three children, and is well situated as Mr. McMillan has been successful in his business.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “I didn’t stomp out of the house and not return. I was angry and upset, but I spoke to Father and Mother the following day. I wanted details. This was their life and, to a degree, should remain private, however it seems your employer is willing to use you as a pawn and expose Mother to ridicule. Will you oblige him? Mr. Schmitt?”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t like Schmitt’s methods, but I do like my job, and I never wanted to work at the mill. I’ve got to do something.”

  “We both have enough money that we would not have to work a day in our lives and be quite comfortable. Although for me, for most females really, a career strictly refers to marriage.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want to marry?” Alexander asked, hearing the plaintive note in his sister’s words.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve not met anyone that I feel more than a slight interest in.” She turned her head to stare at the passing scenery. “And what if my husband had a child with another woman?” she whispered. “I’m not sure I could be as forgiving as Mother.”

  They stopped and secured a young boy to stand with the horse, and Alexander helped his sister down from the gig. They meandered through the aisles, occasionally stopping to examine some goods more closely. He looked up and saw Miss Thompson and her sister walking toward them.

  “Miss Thompson,” he said and removed his hat. “What brings you to the market today?”

  “Hello, Mr. Pendergast,” she said. “You remember my sister Kirsty?”

  “Of course he does!” Miss Kirsty exclaimed. “He was kind enough to escort the both of us home, as I’m sure you remember. We are talking to vendors and shop owners who sell their wares here about handling our products.” She turned to the small wagon she was pulling. “We’ve jarred pickles and beets and potatoes for them to sample. What brings you and your friend out today, Mr. Pendergast?”

  “This is my sister, Miss Annabelle Pendergast. These are the Misses Thompson.”

  “Very nice to meet you,” Miss Elspeth said.

  “Please call me Kirsty. What a beautiful comb in your hair, Miss Pendergast! The stand one aisle over has jeweled ones too. Would you like to walk there with me?”

  Annabelle glanced at him and then at Elspeth Thompson, who was studiously staring at her gloved hands, and slipped her arm free. “That would be lovely. And please call me Annabelle.”

  Alexander watched the two women walk away, already laughing and talking gaily. He glanced at Elspeth. What was it that drew him to her? She was beautiful, certainly, but that was not all of it. Why did he feel connected to her?

&nb
sp; “Would you like to walk?” he asked. “I’ll be happy to haul your wares.”

  She smiled and handed him the pull handle for the wagon. “You seem less upset today than you did a few days ago. I’m glad.”

  He turned his head to her. “Anticipating our meeting has raised my spirits, it seems.”

  “Mine also,” she said and turned away as if suddenly shy, then she stopped walking, waiting until he turned to her. “Why are we meeting today?”

  “It’s a beautiful spring day. You’re someone I enjoy talking to,” he said.

  “And that is all? No other reason? No other motive?”

  “Motive? What do you mean?” he asked, suddenly a bit sick. Had someone said something to her? But he’d never agreed to Schmitt’s plan.

  “Why did you come here when you knew I was going to be here?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said honestly. “But I do know I’ve not been able to keep this appointment, if that is what we can call it, out of my mind for more than an hour at a time.”

  She looked up at him. “I’ve been thinking of it too. I’ve been wondering if you would actually come and thought you wouldn’t, and I was glad about that, and then I thought perhaps you would come, and I’d be glad of that.”

  It struck him suddenly that he liked this woman enough to be honest with her, and that he could never do. He may have to tell Schmitt something, if only to keep his family name out of the hands of the gossips. It would be best for all concerned if he politely and firmly ended whatever it was they’d started. He didn’t want to feel obligated, nor did he want her to have any expectations of him. He looked over her shoulder and saw their sisters.

  “I should be getting Annabelle home,” he said. He did not look at her, though, as he had trouble dissembling when their eyes met and held, as they had done several times on every occasion when he’d spent time with her. “We have prior engagements with longtime friends we are looking forward to.”

  Elspeth turned and watched Kirsty and his sister as they walked to them. They were chatting merrily, and Kirsty was waving at stand holders, promising to deliver their orders the next week.

  “Did you have a nice chat?” Kirsty asked, looking at them both.

  “Very nice,” he replied. “It is past time for us to go as I’ve things to attend to.” He winged his arm to his sister and tipped his hat to Elspeth and to Kirsty. “Have a lovely day, ladies.”

  Elspeth turned away, bending over the jars in their wagon, straightening the few that had been juggled as they’d walked. She had tears stinging in her eyes and hadn’t any idea why. He didn’t mean anything to her.

  “Well! That was cold,” Kirsty said. “He hardly looked at you!”

  Elspeth shrugged and gathered the wagon’s pull. “It doesn’t signify anything.”

  Kirsty shook her head. “Yes, it does signify. Annabelle said she didn’t understand his excitement about today, but she did after seeing how he looked at you. He has some feelings for you, and I think you do for him. Why would he act in such a way? Did you upset him?”

  “How ridiculous you are being! Perhaps he upset me!”

  Elspeth walked away from Kirsty, pulling the cart behind her, angry and hurt at what her sister had said. Had she upset him? She’d not known him long, but she’d noticed when the expression on his face changed during their conversation. What did I say? No other reason? No other motive? Is that what dimmed the light in his eyes? She thought maybe it was, and she knew what the cure was for this feeling of disappointment. She’d forget about him. It was for the best, and she would feel less guilt where Muireall was concerned.

  “Well, Mr. Pendergast. I’ve given you several days to consider my request. I don’t see how anyone can object to you passing along some details about the woman’s family to me,” Schmitt said. “Nothing of great importance, mind you, and she would never have to know.”

  “If it is of no importance, why are you asking me to do it?”

  Schmitt’s face hardened. “Because I need to know some particulars and you are the man in my office who gets me those particulars.”

  “However, I’m not comfortable doing these types of things, as you know. I did meet with Miss Thompson socially a few days ago, but I won’t be seeing her again.”

  Schmitt leaned forward in his seat and folded his hands in front of him on his desk. It was a classic confrontational pose Alexander had seen his employer use on many occasions.

  “You may want to think twice about denying me. I’d hate to see your family embarrassed.”

  “As a gesture of goodwill, I can tell you that Miss Thompson shared with me that her family came here from Scotland. But that is all the information I will be able to provide. I won’t be meeting with her again.”

  “Seems strange as you just met with her at the market on Bainbridge Street last week.”

  Alexander could feel the heat rising on his face. “Are you having me followed, Mr. Schmitt?”

  Schmitt shrugged. “An acquaintance saw you there with your sister speaking to two young women. One of them was towing a wagon with jarred goods, and once described, I knew it was the woman from the whorehouse. It was just a coincidence that they mentioned it to me.”

  Alexander did not believe him for a minute, which made him wonder if the Thompsons, and Elspeth in particular, were in danger. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest, although he was careful to keep his posture relaxed and his face expressionless. “Quite a coincidence,” he said and brushed a speck of lint from his pants.

  “I’m interested in learning more about the Thompsons.”

  “If you can’t tell me why you need to know, you’ll have to learn it from someone other than me. And if you do tell me why, I’ll use my regular channels, but I won’t be meeting with her personally.”

  “That may prove to be problematic for your mother and for poor Mrs. McMillan too,” he said through gritted teeth. “I need you to charm this Thompson woman, and I need very specific facts, including when they arrived here from Scotland and if they went by the name of Thompson before immigrating.”

  “I won’t do it, Schmitt,” he said and stood. “And I’d be careful of what rumors you bandy about my mother and any other woman. I’ve heard that your son has been courting Althea Bartholomew. It just so happens that her mother is a very dear friend of my mother’s. They serve on several charity boards together. My sister and I call her Aunt Bartholomew, even though there is no blood relation. What a pity it would be if Aunt Bartholomew learned that the young man courting her daughter spends many of his days in opium dens. It would be a pity, wouldn’t it? Dashing your hopes of moving the Schmitt family into Philadelphia’s upper echelons.”

  Alexander opened Schmitt’s door and walked down the hallway to his own office. He heard Schmitt’s office door bang open but did not turn.

  “Don’t threaten my family, Pendergast. You’ll be sorry.”

  Alexander put his hand on the brass knob of his office door and looked at Schmitt. “I would never dream of it, sir.”

  He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. He was walking a tight rope and he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He was determined to guard his mother and hang on to his job at the same time. He didn’t know if he’d be fired or if he’d played his hand well, but it appeared that Schmitt bought it all and would understand that he’d leveled the field. And it was not just his mother he was concerned about, he thought as he slouched down in his leather chair behind his desk and stared out the window of his office.

  He didn’t know why Schmitt was interested in her and her family, but protecting Elspeth Thompson felt as natural as breathing. What did that say about his ability or determination to forget her? She was somehow, even on this short acquaintance, part of his thoughts on a regular basis. He did not dream of or envision other young women he’d met, but Elspeth was rarely far from his mind.

  Chapter 7

  “This is a terrible idea, Kirsty,” Elspeth said. She
jostled around on the bench in the horse-driven trolley she and her sister were on, angry with herself for accepting the invitation. Kirsty was looking out the window at the scenery, oohing and aahing at the fancy homes and shops they were passing.

  “So much money,” Kirsty whispered.

  “Let’s go home,” Elspeth said.

  Kirsty looked at her. “You do whatever you would like to do. We’ve both been invited for a luncheon, and I intend to enjoy myself.”

  “I refuse to be a social climber. The Thompsons are fine being who and what they are. There is no need to put on airs.”

  “Oh, fiddle on that. We are just going to have a meal with a new friend. Would you be happier if this person was some poor soul without food?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, and I can hardly call Annabelle Pendergast a friend. I didn’t talk to her past an introductory hello.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You were too busy talking to her brother,” Kirsty responded with a smug smile.

  Elspeth leaned her head back against the glass and stopped listening to her sister’s chatter. She’d not been able to understand herself lately, which rarely happened. Even though she was quiet with others, she’d always been confident of herself and her decisions, but this person, this man, side-tracked her thinking, making her wonder if her long-held claims about herself were true. Could one be independent in thought and action if one could not stop thinking about another person? For two consecutive weeks? Especially the looks of that person. She could not stop thinking of those broad shoulders and those blue, blue eyes. Looks said nothing about the character of a person, but that did not seem to matter in this case.

  “We’re here.” Kirsty stood as the trolley slowed to a stop. “It should only be a short walk to the Pendergasts’.”

  Elspeth followed her sister down the steps of the trolley to a tree-lined street. Every home seemed larger than the last.