“Of all the . . .” Catherine let her words trail off to silence. Carter was doing this to ensure she would have to go with them whenever Winifred made a request. But of course, it would really be Carter’s request. He was doing this to learn who she was and why she was so secretive.
“I was certain you wouldn’t mind.” Mrs. Clarkson looked upset. “Have I done wrong by you? I thought you would enjoy the company—the taste of a better life.”
Catherine steadied her nerves and nodded. “It’s fine. I was just shocked, that’s all.”
“Oh good. Since you had your dress designs mostly completed, I didn’t think it would be a problem. Should there be additional gowns you need to create, we will simply make sure you are available. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must see Selma about supper.”
Catherine watched the older woman hurry away. She wanted to throw something against the wall in protest but refrained. She had never known a man such as Carter Danby. His determination to manipulate her life was beyond reason, and when he returned from his trip, she would make certain he knew exactly what she thought of the matter.
CHAPTER 12
Carter and Leander found the Samuelson boardinghouse after only a few days of searching. Apparently the establishment was highly regarded for being clean and free of bed bugs. The meals were also praised as being plentiful and delicious. Carter hoped only that the owners would be willing to talk about Catherine.
Deep in thought, Carter was surprised when Lee leaned forward to punch him playfully on the thigh. “What?” he asked, knowing he’d surely missed some comment or question.
“I said you seem a million miles away, but I suppose it’s not quite that far, eh?” Lee had a devilish twinkle in his eyes as he added, “Just the distance from this town to Philadelphia.”
“I suppose I have allowed this to completely preoccupy my thoughts.” Carter stared out the window.
The carriage stopped, and the driver quickly appeared to open the door. “This is the place. Samuelson’s Boardinghouse.”
Carter paid the man and asked him to wait. “We shouldn’t be long.” He and Lee then quickly made their way to the house and knocked loudly. Carter felt a sense of excitement that he couldn’t explain. It was almost as if he were a boy awaiting Christmas morning.
“Are you Mrs. Samuelson?” Carter asked when an old woman answered the door to the two-story house.
“I am. If you’re looking for a room, we have one left and you’ll have to share.”
Carter noted she was a plump woman with a rather bulbous nose, but her demeanor seemed quite gentle and kind. He smiled as she opened the door a little wider.
“We are not searching for a room,” Carter replied, “but rather had hoped to converse with you about something of great importance.”
She frowned. “If you’re selling something, I’m not buying.”
“Not at all,” Carter assured. “My name is Carter Danby, and this is my friend Leander Arlington. We’re from Philadelphia and have some interest in a young woman you once housed here with her parents.”
He could see the woman was intrigued and hurried to continue. “I promise we won’t take up too much time.”
“Very well. Come in.” She stepped back from the door and motioned. “This is the sitting room.”
Carter and Leander hurried inside in case she changed her mind. The small sitting room was clean but sparsely furnished.
A settee with well-worn upholstery stood in front of a small fireplace. The fire looked as though it was dying out.
“Please be seated.” Mrs. Samuelson pointed.
Carter took a straight-backed chair, while Leander sat on a small wooden bench by the fire.
Mrs. Samuelson positioned herself in a rocker. “Now, who is this young woman you speak of?”
“It would have been back about five years ago,” Leander began. “The older couple were called Shay. Dugan and Selma Shay. They were here with their daughter, Catherine. They’re from England.”
“Oh yes. I remember them well. My husband, God rest his soul, took ’em in. His cousin brought them to America.” She pursed her lips as if having said too much, then relaxed. “I weren’t to say anything about it back then, but I can’t imagine that it would be a problem now.”
“Surely not,” Carter replied with a smile that he hoped charmed away the woman’s fears.
“What do you want to know this for?” the old woman asked, eyeing him to scrutinize his character.
“To tell you the truth, I’m rather interested in courting Miss Shay. I had to be in New York and knew they had come here.
I wanted to learn of their time here and where they’d come from.”
“Well, my husband’s cousin would have to tell you that. He brought them here from England. I got the idea that there was some sort of death or loss in their lives. The young lady cried a great deal. Never knew why. I do know, however, she ain’t their daughter. She had a different last name. New . . . Newton . . .
Newbaum. No . . . I believe it was Newbury, and I think she was from Bath in England.”
In that instant it all came back to Carter. He remembered the night of the party at the Newbury home. He had been quite intrigued with the beautiful young hostess, scarcely more than a girl.
“That’s right,” Carter said. “Her father was Nelson Newbury.”
Leander looked at him oddly. “You knew him?”
“I had completely forgotten where we had met. I knew I had made Catherine’s acquaintance on another occasion. I teased her about how she never smiles, yet somehow I remembered her smile. That is why. We met at a party and she was quite happy.”
“She weren’t happy here. She must have lost that father of hers. You could talk to my husband’s relation. Just so happens he’s here. Heads back to Bristol in three days. He could no doubt tell you more.”
“Is he here at the house just now?” Carter asked.
“No, but I expect him back shortly. He went to take care of some business matter. Told me he would be back by ten.”
Carter looked at his watch. That was only another half hour.
“Could we wait here for him?”
Mrs. Samuelson shrugged and got to her feet. “It’s no trouble to me. I have to be about my work. You can wait right here.”
The men got to their feet. Carter extended his hand. “Thank you so much.”
She ignored the gesture. “So the Shays and Miss Catherine are doing well for themselves in Philadelphia?”
Carter smiled and nodded. “Very well. They were in good health last I saw them.”
“I hope Miss Catherine is happier now. Sometimes it just takes time to heal the hurt.”
Carter nodded. “She still doesn’t smile, but I hope to change that.” He gave the older woman a wink. “Sometimes it takes more than time to heal a loss. Sometimes it takes something to replace the pain.”
She looked at Carter and laughed. “I’m sure a handsome young laddie like yourself could do the job.”
Once she’d gone, Carter turned back to Leander. “I can’t believe this. How stupid of me not to remember where I’d met her. It’s all so clear now. I remember it well. I had even asked my friend, the one who’d taken me to the party, for more information about her family.”
“Do you suppose she remembers you as well?”
Carter had started to pace but immediately stopped. “I hadn’t considered it. She acts quite uncomfortable around me, so perhaps that is the answer. I haven’t changed much in my appearance.
When I saw her last, she was a budding young woman but still very girlish in her appearance. Not at all the woman in full that we see now.”
“But if she knows who you are, that means she’s trying to keep from renewing that acquaintance. Why would she do that?”
“I’m sure it has something to do with her being in America,”
Carter replied. “And Mrs. Samuelson said something about how she must have lost her father.”
“Th
en we don’t need to speak to the cousin. Perhaps we should just return to Philadelphia and you can confront her,”
Leander offered.
“No, if she does chance to remember me, then there is a reason for her silence. I still can’t figure out why she’s here, and it’sobvious Catherine will not willingly tell me. I recall upon meeting her that we had a conversation about visiting America.
Catherine assured me she had no interest in it whatsoever. No, something happened, and given the dates she first arrived here, it would have had to have happened very soon after that party.”
At five after ten, Harold Marlowe was introduced to them. The gruff old sea captain eyed them suspiciously, especially after Mrs. Samuelson mentioned why they’d come.
“I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know.” The man waited for Mrs. Samuelson to leave before adding, “We have no common business, I assure you.”
Carter could see the man felt protective of Catherine and the Shays. “I know you care about them. I care too. I have come to think quite highly of Catherine and do not wish to cause her harm or pain. Please just sit and hear me out.”
Marlowe looked from him to Leander and back. “Very well, but I’m not promising to talk.”
“I come from a family of some means in Philadelphia,” Carter continued. “Mr. Arlington is a lawyer of great repute and his father is a judge. I met the Newburys while in Bath in late 1850. I was in England—Bath, in particular—studying architecture. While there, a good friend invited me to join him for a party at the Newbury house.”
He tried to think of every detail that might put the man at ease and further his attempt to get information. “I met Catherine— Miss Newbury—at the party. We danced and talked. I found her quite charming, albeit very young.”
Marlowe nodded. “She’s a beauty with a heart of gold.”
Carter smiled. “That she is. I left after a couple of days and never had the opportunity to go back and see her again. Then a few weeks ago, I met her by chance. She is designing women’s clothing in Philadelphia. Her gowns are quite in demand and she has made a name for herself.”
“I knew she would not be one to take life sitting down,”
Marlowe interjected. He pulled out a pipe and leaned over to tap out the old contents into the embers. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pouch and began to pack the bowl with tobacco.
“Miss Newbury is going by the name Miss Shay. She poses as the daughter of Selma and Dugan Shay. I know there has to be a reason for this. She adored her father and England. I know she had no interest in coming to America because she told me so. I suppose now I would like to know why she is here and what became of her father.”
Marlowe lit the pipe and ceremoniously puffed on it several times before sitting back and crossing his legs. “Before I speak on this, I would like to know why this is of such great importance to you.”
Carter nodded. “I can understand that perfectly well. You helped her get away to America and kept her secret all these years. I’m certain that you wish only to protect her. I wish the same, although my motives might be slightly different.” He took a breath and continued before he lost his nerve. “You see, I’m losing my heart to Miss Newbury. I would like to help her in whatever way would set her free from the past and allow her to marry me.”
Carter saw Leander’s startled expression and offered his friend a shrug and a smile. “I didn’t know the depth of my feelings myself—at least, not for certain.” He gave a sigh. “I think I’m completely done in by her.”
Captain Marlowe laughed, and it was the first time Carter felt the man drop his guard. “She’s easy on the eyes, but let me warn you, she has a terrible temper if crossed. I’ve seen her anger in regard to what happened to her father.”
“Will you tell me?” Carter asked.
Marlowe nodded. “I can see that you mean well by her. She’ll need a strong young man such as yourself to help her let go of the past and its miseries. The sorry truth of it is, her father is in prison. He’ll probably die there.”
Carter shook his head. “I don’t understand. Newbury’s in prison? But why?”
“My good friend took a business partner who was less than worthy of his trust. Finley Baker is the man’s name. Behind Newbury’s back Baker dealt in the slave trade as well as other illegal goods. It was found out when he docked in Bristol the night of the party you mentioned. The authorities were there to meet him to take him to jail, but he would have none of it. He shot and killed the two men.”
Carter could see where all of this was headed. “And they blamed Newbury.”
“Well, at least for the slaving. They knew he’d not killed the men at the docks, but that was of little matter. They wanted to set an example of him and sent him to prison for the rest of his life.”
“What happened to Baker?” Leander questioned.
“He escaped. He came to Newbury that night after the party was over. He demanded money and at least bothered to warn my friend of what had happened. Newbury knew he couldn’t run away from such matters, but he had no desire for Catherine to see him ruined. He had his most trusted servants take her and leave as the sun came up. They barely escaped before the officials took Newbury in hand.”
He drew on the pipe. “I’ll never forget having them show up on my doorstep. Catherine was terrified of what might happen to her father. She didn’t want to leave England, but Selma and Dugan made it clear that for her father’s sake she had to go. It would have hurt him deeply to watch her be dragged into it all.
As it was, I attended the trial and it was ugly. There was no one there whose testimony could help. I spoke of Newbury’s good name and reputation, but it was only suggested that he had woven a web of deceit that fooled us all. I knew better but couldn’t convince anyone otherwise. His estate and business holdings were confiscated and stripped away. But none of that hurt him as much as the things they said about Catherine.”
“What could they possibly say against her?” Carter asked, his anger evident.
Marlowe shook his head. “They suggested she had gone off with Finley Baker as his lover and partner in crime.”
“Outrageous. She was seventeen,” Carter said, getting to his feet. “No wonder she never smiles. She has nothing to smile about.” He paced to the small window and tried to regain control of his emotions. It pained him more than he wanted to admit to imagine all Catherine had faced: the loss of her father, her way of life . . . the shame and stigma of having a father in prison, and for slave trading, no less. Her fierce protectiveness of her past began to make sense.
“What happened to her father?” Leander asked.
“They sent him to prison. First one and then another. He’s not allowed any visitors, and last I heard his health was not good.”
“I have friends in England,” Carter began as he came back to his chair.
“Apparently so did Finley Baker. Some of us are convinced that money exchanged hands to keep him out of trouble. He escaped to France and has been seen as far away as Rome. Some of us, friends of Newbury, went together to fund someone to hunt him down. We thought to force the truth from him.”
Carter took his seat. “But you’ve had no luck?”
Marlowe shook his head. “Every time we get close he seems to sense it and moves on.”
“Perhaps the efforts should focus more on getting Newbury out of prison. Surely there are those who would listen to reason.
As I said, I know people in high places. Leander, we must get word at once to Lord Carston, as well as the duke of Mayfield.”
“You know His Grace?” Marlowe asked with raised brows.
“I do. He is a good friend of my uncle. He will help us, I’m certain.”
Marlowe smiled. “Perhaps we will at last see justice done.”
“You may be needed to assist in this matter. Perhaps carry the letters with you to England and see to their delivery. Mrs.
Samuelson said that you were to return soon.”
“I will give you the money myself,” Carter declared. “You can go to my uncle and he can in turn take you to the duke.
Nothing must hinder this, and nothing must be said to Miss Newbury. She feels enough pain. We must not give her false hope. When her father is free to come to her, then we can let her know the truth.”
“I never share news with her,” Marlowe admitted. “We thought it best that there be no correspondence between us. I’ve long wondered what had happened but only knew of little details through Mrs. Shay’s sister back in England. I will keep your secret and help you.”
Carter nodded and felt a sense of relief and purpose. He could help—he was certain of this. It would be his gift to Catherine . . . and maybe in turn it would free her heart from worry and allow her to fall in love with him.
CHAPTER 13
Catherine found herself relieved when Winifred showed up for their outing on the morning of November the sixth. Outside, the air had turned quite cold and there was a threat of snow. Inside, the sewing house was utter pandemonium. The girls were sillier than usual due to celebrating Mrs. Clarkson’s birthday, and no one wanted to focus on work.
“I hope I’m not taking you away from anything too important,” Winifred announced as Catherine settled into the carriage.
“No, not at all,” Catherine said, noting that Carter was not there. She found herself rather disappointed in his absence. “I see your brother has decided to forgo this trip.” She hoped her tone sounded disinterested.
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