The Bachelor’s Bride: The Thompsons of Locust Street

by Holly Bush

  “I’m here, girl. What are you going on about?” he said as he came in and sat beside Muireall.

  “I assumed the invitation was for Kirsty and Elspeth, as they are friends of your sister’s,” Muireall said.

  “As I said before, they are for everyone in your family, all your brothers and sisters and your aunt too.”

  “How formal will this be, Mr. Pendergast? What will all the ladies be wearing?” Kirsty asked.

  “You’ll have to speak to Annabelle about the ladies’ attire. All the gentlemen will be in formal wear; that is all I know,” he said and turned to Elspeth. “Are you planning on coming?”

  Elspeth could sense that he was uneasy. Did he not want her to attend? Was he unhappy that his mother had issued the invitation? She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “Would you like us to come?”

  He stared at her and licked his lips. “Very much so,” he said, and glanced at James. “I am concerned about you and your sisters’ safety, though. My father is having additional security brought in and only using staff that we are familiar with, but when there are three hundred people in attendance, it will be difficult. I’ve met with the head of our family’s security and my father several times. He is convinced it can be managed.”

  “Three hundred people?” Elspeth asked.

  “Mother’s entertainments are much sought after, and she knows a lot of people in Philadelphia.”

  “Then we should be honored,” Muireall said.

  “Why do I get the feeling you are not, Miss Thompson?” He smiled.

  “There is no reason for me to come,” James said. “I’ve no desire to pull on fancy duds and stand around with three hundred people I don’t know.”

  “I was counting on you to come, Mr. Thompson,” Alexander said. “I was hoping you would be able to help me keep a close eye on your sisters and mine.”

  James blew out a breath and closed his eyes. “I’ll have to get to the tailor’s, I suppose. And Payden too, since he outgrows every piece of clothing he owns within a week.”

  “I’ll be staying home with Payden,” Muireall said. “There’s no reason to fuss with formal wear for him.”

  “If I’m going to this ball, and I’m sure it will be a late night, then we’re all going, Muireall. I’ll not leave you and Payden here while things may be dangerous. You’re going and so is Payden.”

  “I have no interest in—” Muireall began.

  Elspeth interrupted, asking Muireall to join her in the hallway. She waited until her sister was close enough to hear her whisper. “Can you not just accept graciously? Just this once, Muireall. Kirsty is beside herself with excitement. I admit I’m looking forward to it too. And shouldn’t the Earl of Taviston be exposed to elegant assemblies? Wouldn’t he be standing beside Father in a receiving line at Dunacres if there were going to be a fancy party? Please, can we not just enjoy ourselves this one time and be presented to Philadelphia society?”

  “You make me out to be the worst kind of antagonistic harridan. I worry, Elspeth. I worry that I will let my guard down and something terrible will happen.” Muireall’s eyes filled with tears. “All those terrible things happened, and then Mother fell and Payden was taken, and then they were killed.”

  “Muireall,” Elspeth said, clutching her sister’s hands. “Not everything will turn out badly. Some things will be wonderful. And I would very much like to dance with Mr. Pendergast.”

  Muireall stared into her eyes for a long moment and then led the way into the parlor. “James? You must plan a time to escort us to the dressmaker’s and drag your brother to the tailor’s, which will be a trial in itself.”

  “Miss Thompson, I know you’ve just returned, but would you care for a walk?” Mr. Pendergast asked as he stood when she entered the room.

  “Yes. I’d like that very much.”

  “Don’t go far, Pendergast,” James said.

  “I planned on staying on this street.”

  Elspeth pulled on her hat and picked up her shawl, as the day was nice enough to leave her coat at home. She stepped out onto the street, and Mr. Pendergast took her wrap from her and laid it over her shoulders.

  “I don’t want you catching a chill,” he said with a smile. “You’ll run back into your house before I’ve seen my fill.”

  “So there are limits to your interest in seeing me?” she asked and began down the street.

  “Are you angling for a compliment, Miss Thompson?”

  She laughed. She loved the banter and the lightheartedness she felt at that moment. “Well, no, but if you’ve something nice to say, then you should say it!”

  Pendergast stopped her with a hand on her arm and turned her to face him. He looked at her, mapping her face with his eyes. “I would like to see you every day, Elspeth. I’d like to see you in my home, at my dinner table,” he said and then bent forward to whisper in her ear. “In my private rooms.”

  Elspeth’s laugh faded. There was nothing comical about the unladylike thoughts going through her head. She was not sure if she’d ever felt the same tremblings as she was at that moment. There was a consciousness about the lower half of her body that made her want to press herself close to him, close enough that her breasts were tight against his chest and her lower half touching his, that even through all the layers of clothing, those warm areas below her waist would heat further against those warm areas of his. Her eyes dropped, resting briefly on his lips before looking away, embarrassed now with her own thoughts.

  He stepped away from her and held up his arm for her to take. “Come. Let’s walk so your sister can stop looking out the window.”

  Elspeth looked up at him as they walked, at his profile, how his cheekbones seemed carved in marble, the shadow of a beard a distinct contrast to his dark and well-defined lips. Ah, so very handsome, broad-shouldered, with an athletic build that made her feel dainty and protected.

  “Tell me about this party, Mr. Pendergast. Will there be music?”

  “A full orchestra,” he replied and tipped his hat to one of her neighbors. “I’m hoping you’ll save a dance or two for me. You’ve never mentioned attending one of the public dances, and it doesn’t seem as though your family socializes much. Do you dance?”

  “I do. Muireall had a dancing teacher come to the house years ago. I’m very much looking forward to the dancing, especially since I don’t have to dance with James.”

  Alexander laughed. “I don’t see Mr. Thompson being a good sport about dance lessons.”

  “Neither was his friend you met the night of the boxing match. MacAvoy. He’s so very tall, and he always had to partner with Kirsty. She was only eleven or twelve at the time, and he would carry her around the parlor by the waist rather than risk his toes to her enthusiastic feet.”

  “He’s doing well at the mill, I hear. I asked Mr. Witherspoon, the manager, and he said he was coming along fine, even though it was a new and different type of job for him.”

  “Yes. He told us very excitedly over dinner a few weeks ago that he is now doing inventory on the plant floor and is in charge of some other men to make sure that there are enough supplies for each day.”

  “I’m glad to hear he likes what he is doing. He’s a close friend of your family, then, other than being your brother’s ring man?”

  “MacAvoy has always been around. He met up with James not long after we leased this house and hasn’t left yet!” Elspeth smiled, but her smile faded as she wondered if MacAvoy was just another piece to the MacTavish mystery that had unfolded, finally, although she was not certain that she’d heard all of the story yet.

  “I’m going to send my carriage for your family the evening of the ball. I believe you’ll be able to squeeze six of you inside—unless you’re planning on wearing hoops, and then we’ll have to rethink things. Perhaps both of your brothers will ride on top if you’re bringing your youngest brother, as it sounds like you are. And don’t eat before you come. Mother will have enough food for a thousand.”

&nb
sp; Elspeth stopped walking and pulled Mr. Pendergast over to one of the large trees where they could speak quietly out of the crowd of people going by them. She looked up at him and searched his face.

  “What? What is it, Elspeth? Do you see one of those men?”

  She shook her head. “No. I can’t tell you everything that is going on with my family, even though I feel as though I could. But I can’t.”

  “Don’t worry about—”

  “But you should know. You’re concerning yourself with our safety.”

  “What is it, Elspeth? What do you want to tell me?”

  She searched his eyes, hoping that her instincts were correct and that Muireall was wrong. “The danger is to all of us, but it is particularly dangerous for my youngest brother, Payden. Please, please keep him safe if you can. He is so precious to us.”

  “Of course,” he said, looking at her curiously. “Of course. I promise. Let us make our way back to your house now.”

  She linked her arm with his and they returned, walking slowly and quietly until they stood in front of number seventy-five. “Thank you, Mr. Pendergast,” she said when Mrs. McClintok opened the door for her. “I look forward to your family’s party very much and to seeing you again soon.”

  “And I you,” he said as he tipped his hat, staring at her until she turned and entered the house.

  “Where is Schmitt?” Alexander asked Bert Kleinfeld.

  Kleinfeld shrugged. “Dunno. He hasn’t been here all morning.”

  Alexander moved the stack of documents and folders to his other arm. “We’ve got a council meeting next week, and there are all kinds of things on the agenda that he has to get ready for. I’m going to need your help sorting through some of this.”

  Kleinfeld followed Alexander into his office, and the two men sorted through the stacks of papers. They heard the bell over the door to their office ding and Schmitt’s booming voice.

  “Where is everyone?”

  Kleinfeld ran from Alexander’s office. “I’m so sorry, sir, I was not at my desk. I was helping Mr. Pendergast.”

  Alexander followed Schmitt down the hallway to his office. “Good morning, Mr. Schmitt. There are several items that will be coming up at this month’s meeting that we should review very soon.”

  “Alexander,” Schmitt said and smiled. “You are all business when it is a beautiful day outside. The birds are singing. The police have decided I didn’t kill that whore, although God only knows why they care. Smile, Alexander, smile.”

  He closed the door to Schmitt’s office. “The police have dropped the charges?”

  “Apparently, they’ve had a confession from some poor drunk. I am in the clear.” Schmitt shrugged. “Which is just as well, considering I didn’t commit the murder.”

  “That’s good, sir.”

  “And,” Schmitt leaned over his desk, lowering his voice to a whisper, “I had a visit from the gentlemen who were looking for information about the girl, that Thompson girl, who you’re sweet on.”

  Alexander could feel sweat break out on his forehead and heard the tattoo of his heartbeat in his ears. “They visited you?”

  “They did, and they did not harm a hair on my bald head!” Schmitt guffawed at his joke. “They told me they wouldn’t be bothering me anymore. That they were closing up shop. I could not decide whether whatever they’d wanted to know no longer mattered or if they’d found out what they needed. In any case, we’re clear, Pendergast! We’re clear.”

  “Very good, sir. I’m happy for you on both counts. But are you sure this is not just a ploy to get you to let your guard down?”

  Schmitt shook his finger at Alexander. “This is exactly the reason I pay you the outrageous salary that I do. You’re a smart one. But I’ve already thought of that. I had some of my men take a look at the building those men were working out of. It’s empty. Cleaned out. They’re gone!”

  “That is exceptionally good news, then,” Alexander said. “I’ve got Kleinfeld working on the contracts for the new dock buildings, and I’m going to do some research on this union that is forming. Perhaps we can negotiate something before there are more involved in it. I’m headed to the newspaper offices to see what my sources have to say unless you need me to do something else.”

  “No, no, Alexander. Do as you wish. You always have me prepared for my meetings. And by the way, Mrs. Schmitt is very thankful that we’ve been included on the guest list for your mother’s party next week.” Schmitt winked. “She believes that I’ve had something to do with the invitation and has been quite a congenial wife, if you know what I mean.”

  Alexander swallowed and hoped Schmitt would not go into details as he sometimes did. “Glad to hear it,” he said and went to the door. “I’ll be going, then, sir.”

  Alexander made his way several blocks across town until he came to a small restaurant tucked in an alley near the wharves. There were working men everywhere, eating and calling to each other from one table to the next, flirting with the young woman carrying trays heaped with fried oysters, ham sandwiches, and crocks of soup. He saw his contact in a corner booth and weaved his way through the crowd.

  “Sam, thanks for meeting me,” Alexander said to the wiry Philadelphia Gazette reporter.

  “I ordered you the special,” he said just as the young woman came over to their table with two mugs of beer and two plates with shredded roast beef covered in gravy over fat yellow noodles.

  “Excellent,” Alexander said. The two men ate and talked of inconsequential things until their plates were empty and the woman had cleared them away. “Tell me what you know about this fellow trying to start a union.”

  Sam Brundowicz told Alexander what he knew, which wasn’t much. He was going to have to find out what he needed elsewhere. Their discussion of a few other things ended, and Alexander pulled out his wallet to pay the tab.

  “Looks like my boss is off the hook for that prostitute’s murder,” Alexander said, hoping that would be enough to make Sam talk.

  “Yeah. He is. Even someone as good as Henry Schmitt is at covering up his crimes and misdemeanors would have had trouble getting out from under a murder charge.”

  “I heard they caught someone,” Alexander said. “It’s good for Schmitt that the police didn’t just let him off. Now that there’s someone in custody, there’ll be less speculation.”

  “Too bad the poor bounder isn’t in custody anymore,” Sam said and stared at Alexander.

  “What do you mean? Did those idiots at the police station let him go after he confessed?” Alexander said offhandedly, even as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

  “I talked to the copper that took him in on a tip that came from high up in the department. The cop said the guy, Smithton, was too drunk to stand up straight, and his crib looked like he’d not left it for days. He didn’t think the guy would have the physical strength to hold down a person fighting for their life, even if it was a woman. And that prostitute? She had all high-end customers like Schmitt. What would she be doing with Smithton, who lived in one room above a stable and hadn’t bathed in weeks? Doesn’t make sense, does it?”

  “Maybe he broke in, looking for cash or booze or powder. Maybe it was random.”

  “Don’t think so,” Sam said. “The murder was personal, although I don’t know toward who, and anyway, there was nothing missing from her house according to the maid. Smithton breaks in, strangles the woman, cuts her up, and doesn’t take the diamond bracelet on her wrist? Doesn’t make sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Is that why they let him go?”

  “They didn’t let him go,” Sam said as he started to slide out of the booth. He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “He was found dead in his cell. Hanged himself with the rope he used for his braces, except his braces had been taken from him shortly after his arrest. I don’t know the story yet, but I will. Somebody put that poor drunk chump up for a murder, promised him something—who knows what—and then had him killed. Th
at’s how it will be when it all comes out, and it will. We’ll see if Mr. Schmitt is free and clear then. Have a good afternoon, Mr. P.”

  Chapter 14

  “This red satin would be perfect for you, Muireall,” Kirsty said as she held up a few yards of fabric at Mrs. Dunleven’s dress shop. Payden and James were two storefronts down at the tailor’s, getting fitted for formal suits.

  “I will not be wearing red satin,” Muireall hissed. “I would never put myself on display in that way. I am twenty-six years old.”

  “And maybe that’s why she never steps out with anyone,” Kirsty said in a whisper to Elspeth.

  “Be kind,” she said. “She’s had much on her mind. Although I hope she doesn’t pick some dowdy flannel buttoned up to her neck.”

  Both turned their head when they heard Aunt Murdoch raise her voice. “No black, and none of this gray either. Look at this green. We could do the trim in rose or this pale yellow. What do you think?”

  “Oh, Miss Thompson! That color is especially lovely with your hair and with the yellow trim,” Mrs. Dunleven said. “Let me show you some patterns.”

  Muireall was led off to a seating area by Aunt and Mrs. Dunleven to look at a large book of designs. Elspeth was glad Muireall had not put up a bigger fuss because now she felt as if she could focus on what she wanted to wear to the Pendergast ball. She fingered a bolt of sky-blue satin.

  “That’s beautiful. And look!” Kirsty said, pulling Elspeth to the end of the long table of fabrics. “Look at this lace with the blue forget-me-nots. It would perfect over that satin.”

  Elspeth spent a pleasant afternoon with her sisters and aunt, different than she could recall for some time. Of course, she and Kirsty enjoyed themselves and met with friends and even went to plays together before, but she could not remember the last time Muireall joined them for any outing.

  “I could swear Muireall smiled just a moment ago,” Kirsty said as she threaded her arm through Elspeth’s and they walked down the street after their visit to Mrs. Dunleven. Aunt and Muireall were in front of them, and Payden and James were following behind.