by Joanna Shupe
“Surprised the missus didn’t just hire a Pinkerton for that.”
“She did. No luck.” Calvin filled Hugo in on the note from Wah Lee and the photo of the marriage license. “She’s terrified someone will discover she was once married to a rascal like me.”
“Understandable,” Hugo said, and then grinned at the dark look Calvin shot him. “Well, what did Mr. Davies take that has Mr. Lee so spitting mad?”
“I don’t know,” Calvin admitted. “Furthermore, I don’t care. I have larger problems, such as how Lee acquired that marriage license.”
“Paid someone off, I suspect.”
“I don’t like him digging into my background.” He rolled his shoulders. “It makes me . . . itchy.”
“Speaking of that, how do you feel? A bout of the fever followed by that fall. You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”
“I feel better than I should, considering.”
“The missus, she could always work a miracle on your mood.” Before Calvin could argue that point, Hugo continued. “I still wish you’d told her about my marriage.”
“So you’ve said. But I made a promise and I’ll not go back on it.”
Hugo nodded sadly, heaving a sigh full of regret. “Never thought it would take this long. If I’d known this would ruin your marriage . . .”
“You’d what? Risk your wife’s safety by telling the truth? Be realistic, Hugo. You asked me to keep it a secret and I have. After you’ve saved my life on three occasions, the least I can do is reunite you with your wife.” Especially because it was Calvin’s fault the two had been separated in the first place.
With Calvin’s malaria worsening in China, Hugo had boarded them both on a boat bound for San Francisco, but not before secretly marrying a Chinese woman he’d fallen in love with months before. He’d planned for the separation to be a short one, to bring her over to America once things settled.
How could any of them possibly have known that the US government would change the immigration laws so drastically? The Exclusion Act now barred nearly all Chinese persons—except diplomatic officials—from entering America. A law based on ignorance and fear, and one that had placed Hugo, a Negro man with no political influence, in a damned tight spot.
Hugo couldn’t bring his wife over, nor could he return to China. After he’d abandoned his Chinese employer to get Calvin back to San Francisco, all the trust he built up was gone. The most powerful opium producer in the region didn’t take kindly to betrayal. The price he placed on Hugo’s head was big enough that Hugo could never return. God help them if that opium farmer ever learned of Hugo’s wife. She would suffer for his disobedience.
Powerless and worried for his wife’s safety, Hugo had begged Calvin to pretend Shin-yee was his wife instead, thinking government officials would be more willing to help a white man than a Negro. Calvin had readily agreed—how could he not, when he owed Hugo his life?—and he swore to bring her to America, no matter the cost. The two had decided never to reveal the deception, because doing so would sink their chances of ever reuniting Hugo with Shin-yee.
When Calvin met Lily, he’d been so certain he could keep his search for Hugo’s wife separate from his own matrimonial bliss. How wrong he’d been.
Sacrifices must be made, Calvin, he could still hear his mother say. We have less so that others may have more.
Returning his attention to the conversation, Calvin drummed his fingers on his thigh. “More than just the threat of bigamy brought about that annulment, as you well know.”
“I still say that woman loved you,” Hugo insisted. “And she’s strong. Probably could’ve handled damn near anything—even if it meant poverty.”
The possibility had occurred to Calvin and he’d considered trying to win her back. Once, right after her father’s death. And then he learned she had taken over her father’s seat on Pulitzer’s board. Lily had actively aligned herself with his bitter enemy—no doubt as a riposte to her former husband—and Calvin could not forgive that.
“She made her choices and so did I. Worked out for the best, if you ask me. We’re close with Lee. He has the connections to smuggle Shin-yee into the country. It’s a matter of giving him sufficient motivation.”
Hugo appeared skeptical. “He likes having something to lord over you, for you to need him.”
That was the truth. Lee had kept Calvin dangling for more than a year with empty promises and increasingly difficult demands. The newspaper articles about the corruption in Chinatown were Calvin’s attempt at pushing back. But Calvin still had a better chance of succeeding than Hugo, a freed slave, would on his own. “I’ll see it done, Hugo. I swear.”
“I know you will. Never met a man more stubborn or more honorable than you. But at what cost will you succeed?”
Chapter Four
I should have shot him.
After Calvin’s departure it took several minutes for Lily to calm down. He remained the most infuriating, selfish, conceited . . . She drew in a deep breath. The man obviously hadn’t changed a bit in four years.
Don’t expect anyone to take care of you, pigeon, she could still hear her father say. This world chews up anyone not willing to fight for what they want.
Warren Davies hadn’t let anyone stop him from doing what needed to be done, and neither would Lily. She would go see this Mr. Lee and discover what all this had to do with her brother. Then she would find Tom and put all this ugliness behind them. Tom could then take over the mining operation and Lily would finally get her life back.
And Calvin Cabot could fall into a ditch for all she cared.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. “Yes?” she called.
The distinguished, haughty face of her butler, Bailey, appeared. “Miss, your cousin Cora arrived several moments ago. I have placed her in the front receiving room. Shall I send tea?”
On any other day Lily would be glad to visit with her cousin. Today, however, nothing was as it should have been. “Yes, please. Thank you, Bailey.”
“Of course, miss. I should add that your gentleman friend has departed by way of the front door.”
“He’s no friend.”
“Indeed, miss.”
She pushed thoughts of Calvin from her mind. There were more important matters at hand. “Bailey, cable the Pinkerton office to ask if they have anyone who speaks Chinese. I’m in need of an interpreter to escort me into Chinatown.”
Bailey’s jaw slackened before he caught himself. Straightening, he quickly masked his surprise at her odd request. “Yes, miss.”
She turned to the bed to grab Mr. Lee’s note—
And it wasn’t there. The bed, the floor . . . the paper was gone. Damn Calvin Cabot to hell. She had a good mind to go after him and shoot at him herself.
By the time she entered the receiving room, she’d calmed down. There she found a young, raven-haired beauty rising from the sofa. Cora Hampton was a cousin on Lily’s mother’s side and only a few years younger than Lily. The two girls had always been close. Cora’s father, Edward, had aided Warren Davies on the original expedition that produced the profitable Davies silver mine, and Uncle Edward still served as the company’s vice president. He’d helped Lily retain the company when the board had wanted to strip it from her hands after her father’s death.
“Was that a shot I heard earlier?” Cora asked.
Lily kissed her cousin’s cheek and then dropped into a chair. “Yes, and considering all that’s happened, that’s the least distressing news of the day.”
“Tell me, did this shot have anything to do with the mysterious man you were hiding in the house?”
Lily grimaced. Despite living a few houses away, Cora seemed well versed in the goings-on inside the Davies household. “You must tell me which servant you’ve enlisted to keep watch here. I’d like to fire the dashed turncoat.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Cora smirked. “Besides, you weren’t doing a very good job of hiding him. I watched him walk directly out the front d
oor. Was that Calvin Cabot?”
What transpired between her and Calvin was no one’s business, not even her best friend’s. Cora knew nothing of the brief marriage and Lily meant to see it stayed that way. “Of course not. What would Calvin Cabot be doing here, in my house?”
Cora’s brow shot up, a move Lily well recognized. “I couldn’t say. But I know you’re keeping something from me.”
“I never hide anything from you,” Lily lied.
“Oh, indeed? How about the time you attempted to run away and join Mr. Barnum’s circus? You were halfway to Hoboken before anyone found you. Or what about when you were fourteen and decided to sail around the world by yourself? I thought your father would have heart failure before they brought the tiny boat back to shore.”
“I didn’t want your feelings to be hurt that I was having an adventure without you.”
“More like you didn’t want me to talk any sense into you.”
Lily grinned, her first real smile of the day. Leave it to her cousin to lighten her mood. “You always were the sensible one.”
Cora’s answering smile faltered. “You mean the boring one.”
“No! I mean nothing of the sort. Would I have a boring friend?”
A maid entered then, her arms bearing a tray laden with refreshments. She placed it on a low table and asked Lily if there would be anything else.
“No, thank you, Mary.” Reaching forward, Lily poured tea into two Haviland porcelain cups. The pink rose pattern had been her mother’s favorite, Lily was told, and she tried to use them whenever possible.
When they settled back with their tea, Lily asked, “Now, what is this about boring?”
Cora sipped from her cup, then placed it in the saucer. “I hate the parties,” she whispered, closing her eyes briefly as if the admission pained her. “Mama is dead set on my making a smart match, but I . . .” She shuddered and looked up, her eyes full of unhappiness. “They won’t talk to me. The girls, I mean. They whisper behind my back about our ‘new’ money and crass family. The young gentlemen only approach me because of the fat dowry Papa’s promised, one they can use for their horse racing and yachting.”
“Oh, but that’s not true,” Lily said, setting her cup and saucer on the table before clasping Cora’s free hand. Her cousin had always been a bit shy, but couldn’t she see how lovely and intelligent she was, not to mention kind? “You must ignore those silly girls. They’re awful, horrible people.”
“That may be the case, but it’s terribly uncomfortable nonetheless. Were they equally awful during your debut?”
Lily rarely allowed herself to think about that time, bitter memories tangled with her brief marriage to Calvin. How young and foolish she’d been, certain her life would be perfect after meeting the perfect man. But few things in life were ever perfect, especially husbands.
“I don’t remember,” she said honestly. “I’m certain they were, I merely never paid attention. You must ignore them, Cora.”
“I would if I had anyone else to talk to, but there’s no one else.”
“You have me,” Lily told her.
Cora rolled her eyes. “Yes, but you’re never there, Lily. You’re away more often than not, and when you’re here you are busy with mining business.”
A stab of guilt worked its way under Lily’s ribs to squeeze her heart. Between a need to escape Calvin and overseeing her father’s company, she hadn’t considered anything, or anyone, else for a long time. And hadn’t Monty been after her to attend more events here in New York? Things would return to normal when Tom finally assumed responsibility for the mine.
“The mine has taken up much of my time the last few years, that’s true. I promise, though, that I’ll come to the next dinner party. When is it?”
“Tonight, at Mrs. Hewitt’s.”
Lily pursed her lips. One of Tom’s good friends, Mr. John Drexel, was cousin to the Hewitts. There may be a chance Drexel would be there. Had he seen or heard from her brother? She made a mental note to cable Drexel the second Cora left.
The door opened and Montgomery Fields strolled inside. “Hello, Lily. I told Bailey I would see myself in.” His gaze landed on Cora and he bowed. “Hello, Miss Hampton.”
“Mr. Fields, hello.”
Lily rose as Monty approached and he bent to kiss her cheek. “Monty, I had no idea you were coming by.”
“I thought we might go for a drive in the park. I’ve hardly seen you this week.”
“How interesting. I was just telling her the same thing,” Cora added as Monty dropped into an armchair.
Montgomery was five years older than Lily and from one of the best New York families. His afternoon suit of green plaid fit his average-sized frame perfectly, the tailoring executed flawlessly. She’d never seen him rumpled or askew, not even his facial hair, the long mustache groomed with precision even on the windiest of days. He was a pleasant man, a good conversationalist, and seemed to know all the right people. What more did a woman need in a man?
Absolutely nothing, if Lily had her way. She wanted predictability. Someone comfortable and reliable, like a well-worn pair of slippers. She did not need passion. No, she’d experienced that once already in her life and had been badly burned. Montgomery hadn’t even tried to kiss her or hold her hand—and that suited Lily perfectly. She would control her feelings this time around, choose a different sort of man to spend her life with, one who produced no surprises. Ever.
“I have been a bit preoccupied lately,” Lily admitted. “I apologize to you both.”
“I keep telling you to let your uncle run the mining business,” Monty said. “Think of all the fun we could have, the places we could travel, if you had more time.”
This was an old discussion. Monty didn’t believe in working for a living and couldn’t understand why the mine was important to Lily. Couldn’t see that it was her way of upholding her father’s legacy, of maintaining something for her brother and future generations. She had loved her father fiercely; to see the mine fall into another’s hands caused a dull ache in her heart. “You’ll both have your wish soon enough. Tom will assume responsibility and relieve me of my duties. Then I’ll have nothing to do but sail and swim and dance every day.” She forced a smile and wondered why the idea of all that leisure time didn’t sound more appealing.
Cora was frowning at Monty. Her cousin said, “My father says Lily has done an outstanding job at the company and he’ll be sorry to see her step down.”
The compliment warmed Lily, though the reminder elicited considerable anxiousness. I might not be able to step down if I cannot locate my brother.
Monty said, “Oh, I don’t doubt it. For certain, the board meetings won’t be half as interesting without you there.”
Had that been a compliment? Hard to tell with Monty, a man so placid and even-keeled that even his flattery was boring. What a horrible thought, Lily. Boring is exactly what you prefer these days. “That is a lovely thing to say, Monty.”
“Mr. Fields, please convince her to come to dinner at the Hewitts’ tonight.”
Lily held up a hand. “I cannot, not tonight—”
“Brilliant idea. I received an invitation myself.” Monty grinned at Lily. “You’re outnumbered, I’m afraid, my dear. The only reasonable thing to do is to agree.”
With both of them staring at her expectantly, Lily accepted the inevitable. “Fine, I’ll attend, but I do need to return home on the early side.” After all, she had an important trip to Chinatown planned.
* * *
“Cabot!” a voice called as Calvin stepped off the elevator and into the Mercury offices. “Thank God you’ve returned.”
Now refreshed from his kidnapping, Calvin nodded to acquaintances along his way to where Jim Evans, his second-in-command, had gathered with a group of grim-faced reporters. As far as the staff knew, Calvin had been in Chicago dealing with the Morning Star—not fighting a bout of malaria in an opium den. Only Hugo was aware of his illness, one that did not recur
often, thank Christ. And because Calvin did not want anyone to know of his suffering from the disease, he disappeared each time it resurfaced. Better to disappear than be thought of as weak or frail.
In actuality, running three newspapers was not as challenging as one might assume. Calvin had been doing so for nearly two years now, and circulation on all three publications had continued to rise each quarter. While some stories overlapped between the two cities, he employed a separate set of reporters for the Mercury, Bugle, and Morning Star, and oversaw the entire operation from his fourteenth-floor office on Manhattan’s Park Row.
He was damn good at publishing, too. People clamored to read the news he served up each day. Nearly every story had his input, every headline his succinct touch. Calvin decided which stories were important enough for that day’s edition, and he directed the reporters on where to focus their energies. Where were the scandals? Who needed exposing? What secrets lay underneath the two most powerful cities in America? Calvin knew the answers to those questions, which was why his papers were so popular.
In traveling the Orient with his missionary parents, Calvin had quickly learned the critical importance of information. Those who didn’t have it were at a distinct disadvantage, both financially and politically, to the select few who did. And those with knowledge hoarded and withheld it because they realized its value.
Like the outbreak of cholera that had taken the lives of both his parents when Calvin was eleven. City officials had kept news of the disease quiet, because it had mostly affected the outer areas, where only the poor farmers lived. They hadn’t seen the value in warning people to be vigilant against the disease.
Calvin had decided then never to be on the outside again. He would bring information to the masses, disseminate power among the populace. While in Hong Kong, he’d worked for the government, helping to erect telegraph poles in the countryside, which was where he’d met Hugo. Later, his near-deadly bout of malaria and a long, arduous boat ride brought him back to New York. When he’d recovered, he started at the Bugle as a reporter.
He now owned three papers. But Calvin had no plans on stopping—not until he owned a paper in every town from Schenectady to San Francisco.
