City of Secrets

by Victoria Thompson

  “Of course. And the servants would tell me about it if I wasn’t home when it happened.”

  “Where else could it have been, though?” Elizabeth asked. “Who would allow something like that in their home?”

  “And speaking of homes,” Gideon said in another attempt to change the subject, “did Priscilla mention who held the mortgage to her house?”

  “No, just that her banker had told her it was mortgaged,” Elizabeth said. “It seems Mr. Honesdale owns the mortgage,” she added for his mother’s sake.

  “What? How on earth . . . ?”

  “We don’t know,” Gideon said, “but we’d certainly like to. He said a friend had asked him to loan Knight some money and he did it out of the goodness of his heart, or so he wanted us to believe.”

  “But he wouldn’t say who the friend was,” Elizabeth added. “He thought we already knew about the mortgage, though, and that’s why we summoned him. At least he agreed not to foreclose on Priscilla.”

  “That was the one good thing we accomplished, I think,” Gideon said.

  “But if he’s not the blackmailer, how are you going to find out who is?” his mother asked.

  “He may not be the blackmailer,” Elizabeth said, “but I think he knows more than he told us. For instance, he wouldn’t tell us who asked him to lend Knight the money, remember? I can’t imagine why a friend of Knight’s would put him in debt to someone like Matthew Honesdale, so I think we can conclude that person didn’t really have Knight’s best interests at heart but was very interested in getting Knight some funds.”

  “And you think that person is the blackmailer?” his mother asked.

  “Or is connected to him in some way. And who do we know who is connected to Knight and Honesdale both?”

  “You can’t think Reverend Honesdale had anything to do with this,” Gideon said.

  “Why not?”

  Gideon frowned, unable to believe such a thing.

  Elizabeth shrugged at his disapproval. “Or maybe the blackmailer used him, too.”

  His mother was frowning thoughtfully. “How do you suggest we find out? I can’t envision going up to him after church on Sunday and saying, ‘Nice sermon and oh, by the way, were you blackmailing Endicott Knight?’”

  “And how would a minister get ahold of that photograph?” Gideon added, sure he’d come up with the best argument in Reverend Honesdale’s favor yet.

  “And yet Reverend Honesdale and his wife were the ones who arranged for Knight and Priscilla to marry.”

  “But only because they thought she was penniless and needed a husband to take care of her,” his mother argued.

  “Yet we know that wasn’t true, so who told them it was? We know they helped Knight marry Priscilla, and we’re sure Knight married her so he could get his hands on her money. If the Honesdales acted innocently, the person who told them the lies about Priscilla is probably the blackmailer.”

  Gideon had to admit she was right. “But how will we find out?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I suppose we could just ask them.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  ELIZABETH AND MRS. BATES HARDLY HAD TIME TO TAKE OFF their coats back at the Bateses’ home when Anna Vanderslice arrived. Her cheeks were glowing and her eyes sparkling, and not just from the cold.

  “Have you seen the newspapers?” she asked before they could even greet her when she entered the parlor.

  “Is it the war?” Mrs. Bates asked.

  “No, something even more exciting.” She opened the newspaper she’d carried in so they could see the headline.

  Mrs. Bates snatched it from her to read the story.

  “An amendment passed?” Elizabeth asked, having only been able to read the headline. “Is it the Woman Suffrage Amendment?”

  “President Wilson made a speech yesterday, urging members of Congress to pass the Woman Suffrage Amendment,” Mrs. Bates reported, having read that far.

  “And they passed it today!” Anna added.

  “But it was just the House of Representatives,” Mrs. Bates said as she read further.

  Elizabeth knew getting a constitutional amendment passed wasn’t that easy. She hadn’t known anything at all about how the government worked until she’d been thrown in jail with a bunch of suffragists last fall, but she was becoming somewhat of an expert.

  “It will still have to pass in the Senate,” Mrs. Bates said, not happily. “That will be much harder.”

  “I don’t know why it should be,” Anna said, “if it passed this easily in the House.”

  “Because it’s taken many tries to pass it in the House, and the House of Representatives knows they can pass anything they like without fear that it will become law. They know the Senate will refuse to pass a lot of what they’ve approved.”

  “Why doesn’t the House just refuse to pass those things in the first place, then?” Anna asked, annoyed.

  “Because this way they can please their voters by saying they tried to pass whatever it was and still rest assured that something they consider bad won’t ever become a law because the Senate will stop it.”

  “What a silly way to run a government,” Anna said.

  “But at least if it passed in the House, that’s a start,” Elizabeth said. “And now we know that our demonstrations can work. We’ll convince the Senate, too.”

  Mrs. Bates sighed and handed the newspaper to Elizabeth. “I just hope it happens in my lifetime.”

  Surely, it wouldn’t take much longer if President Wilson was finally supporting it, but Elizabeth didn’t say so. She knew too much about human nature to be sure of anything.

  “Now what have the two of you been up to today?” Anna asked when they’d seated themselves before the fire.

  “Mrs. Bates has been flirting with Mr. Devoss, and I have been consulting with a pimp,” Elizabeth said. She purposely didn’t so much as glance at Mrs. Bates so she wouldn’t be distracted by her outrage.

  Anna, however, was delighted. “I’m not sure which of those is more shocking.”

  “While both of them are shocking,” Mrs. Bates said sternly, “only one of them is true.”

  “Poor Mr. Devoss,” Anna said, guessing correctly.

  “Indeed,” Elizabeth said. “Although we only have her word that she wasn’t flirting.”

  “I assure you, I will never encourage poor Roger Devoss. And aren’t you even the least bit curious about Elizabeth’s activities?”

  “Elizabeth did mention last night that she would be meeting with a rather unsavory person today. A pimp, eh? Just how unsavory was he?”

  “Not unsavory at all,” Elizabeth said. “I had actually practiced my outraged exit just in case, but he turned out to have excellent manners and to know how to conduct himself in polite company.”

  “How very disappointing,” Anna said. “Is he at least the blackmailer?”

  “Does Anna know everything?” Mrs. Bates asked in surprise.

  “Almost,” Elizabeth admitted. “And we don’t think he is the blackmailer. What I didn’t tell you, though, is that he’s Reverend Honesdale’s cousin.”

  “Are you serious? How on earth could that happen?”

  “Every family has a black sheep,” Mrs. Bates said.

  “Yes, at least one. I’m considering becoming the black sheep for my family,” Anna said.

  “How would you do that?” Elizabeth asked with real interest.

  “Cybil is trying to convince me to enroll at Hunter College.”

  “That sounds like a marvelous idea,” Mrs. Bates said. “And it would hardly make you a black sheep.”

  “You haven’t heard my mother on the subject,” Anna said. “So this pimp is Reverend Honesdale’s cousin?”

  “What an ugly word,” Mrs. Bates said. “His name is Matthew Honesdale.”

  “He has the sa
me last name? Why on earth hasn’t this become a scandal?”

  “Why should it? Reverend Honesdale and his father have no control over what their relations do,” Mrs. Bates said.

  “That never stops people from gossiping, though,” Anna pointed out. “I can’t believe the people in the church don’t know it.”

  “I’m sure some of them do, and they are discreet out of respect for Reverend Honesdale,” Mrs. Bates said. “It has probably caused the family considerable distress.”

  “Distress? Is that what they feel, do you think?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Probably ‘horror’ is more accurate,” Anna said. “Or ‘humiliation.’ Or they try not to think of it at all.”

  “And I’m guessing this Matthew Honesdale is very discreet,” Elizabeth said. “His business is illegal, after all.”

  “But don’t all businessmen like publicity? Doesn’t it help their business?”

  “Not from what he said. He certainly wouldn’t want reporters outside his brothels reporting on who goes in.”

  “Oh, I suppose not,” Anna said.

  “You girls are incorrigible.” Mrs. Bates shook her head.

  “You see, Anna, you’re already succeeding in your quest to become a black sheep,” Elizabeth said.

  “The process is far easier than I expected it would be.”

  “It’s remarkably easy for a young lady,” Mrs. Bates said solemnly, “as I hope you know. The slightest hint of scandal and your reputation is ruined.”

  “I certainly hope no one finds out I murdered Elizabeth, then,” Anna said.

  But Mrs. Bates’s comment had set Elizabeth wondering about something she’d read in Mrs. Ordway’s book. “If the Honesdales have a relative—a fairly close relative, since he called our Reverend Honesdale’s father his uncle—who operates brothels in the same city, wouldn’t a young lady think twice about marrying into the family?”

  Mrs. Bates and Anna considered her question for a long moment.

  “I think my mother and my brother would certainly have something to say about it,” Anna said.

  “Oh yes,” Mrs. Bates said. “The senior Reverend Honesdale is highly respected, of course, and above reproach, but it’s certainly something a family would consider before allowing their daughter to marry.”

  “And who is Mrs. Honesdale’s family?”

  “Daisy, you mean?” Mrs. Bates asked with a frown. “I told you, no one knew her before she married Reverend Honesdale. I still don’t know who her family is.”

  “Wasn’t there an announcement in the newspaper with the names of the bride’s parents? Mrs. Ordway strongly recommends that, doesn’t she?” Elizabeth said.

  “I suppose there must have been,” Mrs. Bates said, glancing at Anna. “Do you remember?”

  “I don’t. It didn’t seem important at the time,” Anna said. “Where did they say she was from?”

  “Some odd place, I think. New Jersey?”

  Anna shook her head. “You’re right, it was odd, but not . . . Was it Maryland?”

  “I think you’re right. But if she’s from Maryland, wouldn’t she have a Southern accent?”

  “People in Maryland don’t have a Southern accent,” Elizabeth informed them. “Don’t you remember from when we were in Washington City?”

  “I’m not sure we met many people from Maryland on that trip,” Mrs. Bates reminded her. “The people in Virginia have a Southern accent, though.”

  Elizabeth decided not to argue. “At any rate, Daisy Honesdale came from some state nobody can remember where people don’t have Southern accents and nobody knows who her family is. Do we even know how Reverend Honesdale met her?”

  Mrs. Bates and Anna exchanged another look. Anna shrugged. Mrs. Bates said, “I don’t think we ever heard.”

  “Why are you suddenly so interested in Daisy Honesdale?” Anna asked.

  “Because there’s something strange about the Honesdale family. The nephew of a well-known minister owns brothels. The son of the well-known minister suddenly marries a woman no one ever heard of before in a private ceremony with none of his parishioners present. That couple encourages a widow in their church to marry a man she barely knows who also happens to need her money because he’s being blackmailed.”

  “When you put it like that, it does sound suspicious,” Anna said.

  “But it could also be easily and innocently explained,” Mrs. Bates said. “This Matthew Honesdale could have rebelled against his religious family. Some boys do. Peter Honesdale could have met a woman from a less socially prominent family and fallen in love. To save her embarrassment, they kept their courtship and wedding private so no one learned of her humble background and thought less of her. I’ve already mentioned that Daisy and Peter could simply have had Priscilla’s best interests at heart when they brought her and Mr. Knight together.”

  Mrs. Bates was right, of course, but Elizabeth had often observed that people’s reasons for doing things were usually selfish and self-serving. Mrs. Bates might be right about one or two of those things being acts of generosity, but not all of them. Human nature was simply too prone to self-interest.

  “Mrs. Bates, I think the time has come for me to start paying calls on some of the women I’ll need to know when I marry Gideon,” Elizabeth said.

  Mrs. Bates blinked in surprise at the sudden change of subject, but then her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I’ve been trying to get you to do that for weeks. What suddenly changed your mind?”

  “I was just thinking that if Daisy Honesdale doesn’t have any family or childhood friends in the city, she might get lonely and long for female companionship.”

  “How kind of you to think of that,” Anna said with forced enthusiasm, ever the loyal supporter.

  Not fooled, Mrs. Bates gave her a disgusted frown before turning back to Elizabeth. “And exactly what would you hope to accomplish with such a visit?”

  “As someone from North Dakota, I also don’t have many friends in the city. We could commiserate.”

  “You’re from South Dakota,” Anna said.

  “South Dakota? Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Mrs. Bates, do you remember if it’s North or South?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I’m sure it doesn’t matter, since you’ve never been to either one of them in your life.”

  She was right, of course, but Elizabeth was sure Mrs. Ordway would say Mrs. Bates was rude to mention it. She’d have to look that up. Meanwhile, she certainly wasn’t going to accuse Gideon’s mother of being rude. “I can’t believe I forgot. I never forget the tale.”

  “What tale?” Anna asked.

  “The tale is the story you tell the mark when you’re conning him.”

  Anna glanced at Mrs. Bates. “Were we marks?”

  “Of course not. I never asked you for any money, did I? Although I had to con you a little, because if you thought I was a suffragist, too, you’d look after me.”

  “And your life was in danger, so you can certainly be excused for lying back then,” Mrs. Bates said. “But that’s all behind us now, so do you think it’s advisable to still claim to be from the Dakotas, whether it be North or South, when you’re really from Chelsea?”

  The Old Man had always advised telling as much of the truth as you could, since it was always easier to remember. Did Mrs. Ordway know that rule? Perhaps Elizabeth should write an updated etiquette book to cover all these unusual circumstances. “You’re probably right. So maybe I’m just trying to get to know her better since I’ll be attending her husband’s church.”

  “I think that’s perfectly logical,” Mrs. Bates said. “You probably shouldn’t mention your relationship with Gideon just yet, though.”

  “Do you think she would gossip?” Elizabeth glanced at Anna, remembering their conversation about the way Daisy Honesdale mana
ged to gossip without seeming to. From her expression, Anna remembered it, too.

  “Mrs. Honesdale doesn’t approve of gossip,” Mrs. Bates said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard her say a bad word about anyone.”

  “How difficult that must be for her,” Elizabeth said, earning a scowl from Mrs. Bates. “And you’ll go with me?”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Bates said. “Since you are my protégée, your spiritual well-being is of utmost concern to me, and I want you to meet all the important people in our lives.”

  Elizabeth couldn’t help wondering how much longer the Honesdales would be important if they were guilty of what she suspected.

  * * *

  • • •

  MRS. HONESDALE’S AT-HOME AFTERNOON WAS ON FRIDAY, which happened to be the following day. Anna had begged to go along, but Mrs. Bates convinced her that three would be too many to descend upon the unsuspecting minister’s wife, especially if she had additional callers.

  Elizabeth was more than prepared for the visit. She’d spent most of the previous evening and that morning studying Mrs. Ordway’s chapters on calls and conversation. She didn’t want to break any etiquette rules that would expose her as a counterfeit lady, after all. Oddly enough, Mrs. Ordway’s rules were remarkably similar to those followed by a good con man: Don’t monopolize the conversation. Don’t argue. Don’t contradict. Don’t interrupt. Of course, Mrs. Ordway didn’t think it proper to inquire into another person’s private affairs, but how else could you find out if a mark was worth fleecing? And how else could Elizabeth find out if Mrs. Honesdale was who she claimed to be? So she’d have to tread carefully.

  “Mrs. Bates,” Daisy Honesdale said, rising to greet them in her parlor when her maid announced them. “And Miss Miles. How nice to see you.” Daisy appeared to be alone, which would make the job much easier.

  The minister’s house was exactly what Elizabeth had expected, a modest home a mere block from the church and furnished with an eye more for frugality than fashion. The horsehair-upholstered furniture would last a generation, at least, and the tables were obviously family pieces that had been passed down because someone had died, and had been received out of obligation rather than pleasure. The minister’s wife wore a gown every bit as modest as her house so far as style was concerned, but Elizabeth noted the fabric was the best quality and her shawl was cashmere. Her shoes were the softest calfskin, and the broach at her throat appeared to be made of genuine precious stones, if Elizabeth’s eyes did not deceive her.