City of Secrets

by Victoria Thompson

  “And you probably learned even more from watching other women,” Elizabeth guessed.

  “Yes, and listening to what they criticize in others, which is probably the best lesson of all. Society women always know when someone is, uh, inexperienced.”

  Elizabeth smiled slyly. “You mean new money, don’t you?”

  “That is such a snobbish term.”

  “Yes, particularly when so many old money families don’t have any money at all.”

  “We still have our pride, dear, and no one can take that but ourselves.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I have no idea,” Mrs. Bates admitted. “At any rate, I think what you’re tactfully trying to ask me is whether I think Mrs. Honesdale is old money or new.”

  “Was I being tactful? It was completely unintentional.”

  “And quite honestly, you could use more practice at it, but to answer your question, Mrs. Honesdale is definitely new money.”

  “I knew it!”

  “One shouldn’t look too pleased when proven right.”

  Elizabeth made a mental note of it. “This is very interesting.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we know that Reverend Honesdale’s cousin operates illegal businesses, and if that fact were known, it might limit his ability to marry a woman from a socially prominent family, and now we know his wife is not from a socially prominent family.”

  “I’m not sure why it should be significant, though. Many people marry someone from a different social class. Millionaires often marry showgirls, for example.”

  “Do Knickerbocker scions marry con men’s daughters?” Elizabeth asked with feigned innocence.

  “Gideon would not like to be called a scion, but I certainly hope they do, which only goes to prove my point.”

  Elizabeth pretended to consider her argument while they waited at a corner for the traffic cop to stop the motorcars so they could cross. “How old do you think Mrs. Honesdale is?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never given it any thought.”

  “I think she’s close to forty.”

  “She couldn’t be.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Reverend Honesdale is only thirty-one.”

  “Why couldn’t she be forty, then?”

  “I . . . Well, I suppose she could be, but it just seems . . . I mean, men usually marry women younger than they are or at least the same age.”

  “I suppose they do,” Elizabeth said as they ventured out to cross the street, “and a woman her age is unlikely to give him children, which ministers are expected to have, I’d guess.”

  “No more so than any other man, but children are always an expected outcome of marriage, at least if the couple is young.”

  “But Mrs. Honesdale is not young, and she’s not from a wealthy or socially prominent family. Did you notice her dress?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “I did. It was very expensive.”

  “I’m sure you’re mistaken. I thought it very plain.”

  “I didn’t say it was fancy. I said it was expensive. It fit her perfectly, and did you notice the little pleats? Some dressmaker spent hours on them. That dress cost more than Reverend Honesdale earns in a month.”

  Mrs. Bates frowned as they parted momentarily to pass on either side of a woman who had stopped on the sidewalk for no apparent reason. “I did notice her shoes were very nice,” she admitted when they came together again.

  “Handmade. And her shawl was cashmere.”

  “How could you . . . ?”

  “You need to be able to size up a mark to know if he’s worth your trouble,” Elizabeth said apologetically. “But don’t tell me you didn’t notice those pleats.”

  “They were lovely, I’ll admit, but I’m sure there’s some explanation.”

  “I’m certain of it.”

  * * *

  • • •

  DAISY HAD RESISTED GOING TO FIND PETER AT THE CHURCH when her visitors had left. The church was always crawling with people who thought it was their duty to observe and report whatever the pastor was doing or not doing, none of which ever completely met with their approval.

  No, the church was too dangerous. This house was the only place they could really talk, and then only after the maids had left for the day. Today, she had sent them home early, preferring to fix supper herself rather than delay her discussion with Peter.

  “Why are you sitting here in the dark, darling?” he asked when he came into the parlor. He switched on the electric lamp on the table beside her chair.

  “Sit down, Peter. We need to talk.”

  He registered alarm, as she had intended, and took the chair next to hers. “What’s wrong?”

  “Mrs. Bates brought that Miles girl to visit me today.”

  “But that’s good, isn’t it? You said you wanted to know more about her.”

  “She was remarkably reticent, however, for one who did so much talking.”

  “Didn’t you ask her any questions?”

  Ninny. “Of course I did, and she did her best to give me as little information as possible. She claimed she’s from South Dakota, of all places, and she has no family, and she intends to make her home in New York and join our church.”

  “That’s a lot,” he said.

  “That’s nothing, and most of it probably isn’t even true. Nobody is from South Dakota.”

  “I’m sure someone is, darling.”

  “No one we know. No one in New York.”

  “It is very far away.”

  Shut up. “She was remarkably insistent about hearing my life story, however.”

  “You didn’t tell her, did you?” he asked in alarm.

  “Do you think I’m a fool? No, I told her the Maryland story.”

  “People have always liked that story.”

  Because she’d created it for that purpose. “Priscilla has been confiding in her.”

  “Has Priscilla found out about . . . ?”

  “I don’t know, but she told Miss Miles that Jenks left her well off. Miss Miles wanted to know if I remembered who had started the rumor that she was penniless.”

  “I believe we said she was in reduced circumstances.”

  “It doesn’t matter what we said. The important thing is that we are not the ones who said it. Someone else told us, and we had no reason to doubt it.”

  “And we saw it as our Christian duty to help her find a husband to take care of her,” he parroted.

  “And of her children. Don’t forget the children.”

  “I won’t,” he promised. “But who did you say told us?”

  “I said I don’t remember, and neither do you. It was simply common knowledge.”

  “Common knowledge. That sounds reasonable.”

  “And that’s all you know.”

  “Yes, that’s all I know. This is so complicated. It didn’t seem complicated when we started.”

  Idiot. “It’s not complicated. I warned you the Miles girl was smart, but she’s not as smart as we are. She just wants to help her friend. All we have to do is convince her we want that, too.”

  “Yes, we do. That’s why we introduced her to Endicott in the first place.”

  “Don’t say that, Peter. Don’t say anything about it.”

  “All right. But I don’t like the idea of this girl snooping around. Can’t we just . . .” He gestured helplessly.

  “If we must, but it would be a shame to waste her.”

  Peter smiled. “Yes, it would. It would be a terrible shame.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “SO YOU THINK MRS. HONESDALE’S EXPENSIVE DRESS PROVES SHE was blackmailing Endicott Knight?” Gideon asked skeptically after Elizabeth and his mother had told him about
their visit over dinner. Now they had withdrawn to the parlor, where they could discuss it without being overheard by the servants.

  “Don’t forget the shoes and the shawl,” Elizabeth said.

  “And even all of them together don’t prove anything,” his mother said, “but it does seem a bit extravagant for a minister’s wife.”

  “Maybe she had family money,” he said, remembering Elizabeth would have family money, too. He should be happy about that, he supposed.

  “I don’t think so. She told us she had to turn her home into a boardinghouse to support herself,” Elizabeth said.

  “But she owned a home, so she wasn’t exactly destitute.”

  “He’s right,” his mother said to Elizabeth. “We didn’t think of that.”

  “So where did she get a house?” Gideon asked.

  “We assumed she inherited it, I suppose,” his mother said. “She said she doesn’t have any family left.”

  “Or maybe she was married before,” Elizabeth said.

  “She didn’t say anything about a first husband,” his mother said.

  “We didn’t ask her, either,” Elizabeth said. “She could have been a widow, which would explain her age.”

  “Why do you need to explain her age?” Gideon asked. This conversation was proving more confusing than enlightening.

  “Elizabeth thinks Daisy is somewhat older than Reverend Honesdale.”

  “Maybe she just looks older,” he suggested. “Some women don’t age well.”

  “I can’t believe you said such an ungentlemanly thing,” his mother said.

  “He’s right, though,” Elizabeth said, “and I’d guess Mrs. Honesdale has seen some hardship, but no matter what, she’s definitely older than thirty-one.”

  “Thirty-one?” Gideon echoed, having lost the thread again.

  “Reverend Honesdale is thirty-one, dear. He’s a few months younger than you are.”

  “Which means he’s eligible for the draft,” Elizabeth said. “Unless ministers are exempt.”

  “I imagine they are, unless they want to go as chaplains,” Gideon said. “What does all of this have to do with finding our blackmailer, though?”

  “As you already surmised, Elizabeth suspects Mrs. Honesdale might have spent some of the blackmail money on her wardrobe,” his mother said.

  “I’m just saying it’s a possibility, but I did think it strange that she couldn’t remember who told her Mr. Jenks had died penniless. And Anna told me she heard it from Mrs. Honesdale herself.”

  “Mrs. Honesdale does not gossip, though,” his mother said.

  “Not in the usual way, no,” Elizabeth said. “She simply told Anna and some others not to judge Priscilla because she’d found herself in need or something like that. She basically shamed them for gossiping while spreading a different story herself.”

  “That’s rather clever,” his mother said with way too much admiration.

  “I think she’s more than clever,” Elizabeth said. “And I’d love to find out what she knows about DeForrest Jenks’s death.”

  “You can’t possibly think she had anything to do with that,” Gideon said.

  “Not personally,” Elizabeth said and smiled in a way she must know would totally distract him. “But I don’t even think she’s from Maryland.”

  “I didn’t even know she was,” Gideon said.

  “What makes you doubt her?” his mother asked.

  “She said she was from a small town and refused to name it, but when I asked her if New York was different from Baltimore, she didn’t even blink.”

  “Why would that mean she’s not from Maryland?” he asked.

  “Because how many towns in Maryland can you name?”

  “I . . .” He considered. “Baltimore.”

  “Exactly. If she were from Baltimore, she would have said she was in the first place. But she made up some silly story about the town being so small, we would never have heard of it. When I asked her about Baltimore, she didn’t say she wasn’t from there, though, so I knew she was lying.”

  Gideon rubbed his temple. He was now completely lost. “How . . . ?”

  “If I asked you how Albany compared to Washington City, what would you say?”

  “I’d say I don’t know anything about Albany.”

  “Yes, because you didn’t grow up there. When I asked her how Baltimore compared to New York, she should have said she’d never lived in Baltimore. Instead, she said something like no city is like New York, which means she doesn’t know anything about Baltimore except that it was a city in Maryland, but she must have thought she’d told me she’d lived there, so she couldn’t claim ignorance.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Oh!” his mother exclaimed suddenly. “Are you saying she forgot the tale? Like you forgot North and South Dakota?”

  “What tail?” Gideon asked.

  “Yes!” Elizabeth exclaimed right back. “That’s it, she forgot the tale, and it wasn’t even a very good one to start with.”

  “What are you talking about? And what does it have to do with North and South Dakota?”

  “North and South Dakota don’t matter at all. The tale is the story a con man tells a mark to win his confidence,” Elizabeth explained, her beautiful blue eyes brightening even more than usual. “Mrs. Honesdale has a story she tells about herself. That’s her tale. She says she’s from Maryland, but she claims she’s from a small town and doesn’t even tell you the name of it. Details are so important, though, which is why her tale isn’t very good.”

  “Why do you suppose she won’t say the name of the town?” his mother asked.

  “Because if she did, there’s a very small chance that someone she meets will have heard of it. Maybe my aunt Matilda was born and raised there and I spent every summer at her farm. How excited I would be to ask where she lived and who we might know in common.”

  “And you would soon realize she knew nothing about the town,” his mother said. She was far too interested in learning the tricks of a con man.

  “What does Baltimore have to do with this?” he asked.

  “She could have claimed to be from Baltimore, because it’s a large city and she couldn’t be expected to know everyone who lives there, but because it’s a large city, the chances that she’ll meet someone familiar with it would be greater. I’m going to guess that she’s never even been there, so she couldn’t even reminisce about it.”

  “Then why did you ask her about it?” Gideon asked.

  “As a test, to see if she was paying attention. A casual visitor wouldn’t ask her about a city for no reason, so she must have assumed she’d mentioned it. As your mother pointed out, though, she’d forgotten the tale and didn’t realize she hadn’t mentioned it at all. She’s a liar, but she’s not very good at it.”

  “Maybe she just doesn’t get much practice,” his mother said generously.

  “Mother, you don’t need to excuse her failure to lie well,” Gideon said.

  His mother shrugged sheepishly. “I suppose you’re right, dear.”

  Elizabeth gave a suspicious little cough behind her hand before she said, “Anyway, she’s not from Maryland. And your mother agrees with me that she’s a newcomer to society, so Reverend Honesdale married beneath him.”

  Finally, something he understood. “Which he might have to do if his cousin owns brothels.”

  “Yes. The question is, how far beneath him was she?” Elizabeth said.

  “What does that mean?” Gideon asked.

  “I can’t help wondering what really set all of this in motion. I mean, when did it really start?”

  “With Mr. Knight’s perversions, I should expect,” his mother said primly.

  “Yes, but who first thought of involving Priscilla?” Elizabeth said. “I keep thinking her firs
t husband’s death was awfully convenient for Mr. Knight, coming as it did just when he ran out of money.”

  “But how could they know Priscilla would be willing to marry Mr. Knight?” his mother said.

  “That’s just it: she wasn’t willing at all. They practically forced her, and she was so grief stricken, she didn’t have the strength to resist.”

  “Elizabeth, really,” his mother chided. “That sounds like something from a penny dreadful, and Mr. Honesdale is a minister, after all. I just can’t believe he’d be a party to that.”

  Elizabeth didn’t seem the least bit chagrined at the rebuke. “I’d just like to be sure that Mr. Jenks’s death was really an accident.”

  “How could you possibly determine that?” Gideon asked.

  “I was hoping you’d look into it for me.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “GOOD EVENING, MR. BATES. WE HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN A WHILE,” the manager said as he admitted Gideon to the venerable old building that housed the Manchester Club.

  “Thank you, Tom,” Gideon said as Tom helped him out of his overcoat. “I’ve been busy lately.” He’d been spending every spare moment with Elizabeth, so going to his club had not seemed appealing. Since Elizabeth had asked him to look into how DeForrest Jenks had died, however, he’d decided to stop in after seeing her home.

  “Who’s here tonight?” Gideon asked, rubbing the warmth back into his hands.

  Tom named a few men in whom Gideon had little interest. “And Mr. Vanderslice. He’ll be happy to see you, I’m sure.”

  Gideon had shamelessly neglected his oldest friend of late, but he couldn’t spend time with David and Elizabeth together. Since Elizabeth and David had broken their engagement, things between them had been a bit awkward, or at least they probably would be if they ever saw each other. He found David in the card room, reading a newspaper. Four men were playing cards at one of the tables. Gideon nodded as he walked by and genially turned down their invitation to join them.

  At the sound of his voice, David looked up and greeted him warmly. When Gideon had claimed a chair beside him and asked the waiter for some whiskey to take the chill off, David said, “Is old Devoss working you pretty hard lately?”