Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery

by M. Louisa Locke

  There was a pause while Nate maneuvered the chaise onto the North Ridge Road, the most direct route to the Conservatory, whose gleaming glass dome they could now see rising above the rolling hills of the park.

  Once he was safely on the new road, Nate said, “I guess I should be glad that Uncle Frank was listening all those times I complained, although I’m not sure it isn’t his desire to have more time with Mrs. Voss that primarily motivated him to take on another partner.”

  Nate paused and then said angrily, “But Annie, why did he have to keep me in the dark, as if my opinion didn’t matter? I can’t help thinking, if I’d known, I would never have listened to Pierce, and maybe the attack on you wouldn’t have happened, and we wouldn’t have had that fight . . .”

  Nate’s voice cracked, and for an instance she shared his anger at his uncle, then she shook her head and said, “Nate, don’t get mired in what might have happened. Pierce would have just found another way to get you out of the way, one that might have worked better, and, as for the fight . . . I believe it was for the best. We were moving too fast. When you think about it, almost all the time we have spent together since we met in August we’ve been wrapped up in investigating other people’s problems, not talking about our own. It’s not surprising that we don’t really know each other that well.”

  Nate pulled the chaise over beside the road and stopped the horses; he then turned to her and said, “What do you mean?”

  Annie’s heart sped up, and she picked her words very carefully. “I am trying to say that some of the statements you made the night of the Halloween party, and how I reacted to them, revealed that neither of us know each other as completely as we thought we did, and, before we move forward, that needs to change.”

  “Annie, I know I messed everything up, but . . .”

  “Nate, please, listen to me. I once made the mistake of moving too fast, and I ended up married to a man I hardly knew. The result was disastrous, for him and me.”

  Nate shook his head fiercely and said, “I’m not like your husband. I would never . . .”

  “Never what? Don’t you see? You don’t even know what John did to hurt me. Or how marriage to him changed me, because it did, sometimes I think irrevocably. These past few weeks, I’ve discovered some things about myself that frighten me. You need to know me better before you can make any decisions about a future with me. And I need to know more about you before I can let go of my fears about being dependent, not just on you, but on anyone. I not only didn’t keep my promise to you not to go anywhere alone, but I even pushed Beatrice and Kathleen and Esther away this time, not telling them where I’d gone, and it almost cost me my life. But that desire for independence has become such an ingrained part of who I am that I am not sure I can change, and I don’t know that it would be fair to you if I can’t.”

  Nate looked down at his hands and took a deep breath. When he started to speak he kept his eyes lowered, and she heard a tremor that tore at her heart.

  He said, “I’m not asking you to change. I love you the way you are. No matter how much you infuriate me sometimes. But if you don’t love me, I don’t see how time is going to change how you feel.”

  “Nate, look at me.” Annie said, putting her hand out and physically turning his face towards hers. “I didn’t say I didn’t love you. I do, and believe me it scares me to death to say that, but I owe you that truth. I’m just not sure love is enough. My father loved me, but the decisions he made, even though he thought they were in my interest, hurt me more than I can tell you, and . . .”

  Annie, shocked that this particular betrayal still hurt her so, fought back tears until Nate took her in his arms, and then she let them fall.

  Minutes later, Annie sighed once more. As she pulled away, she said, “See, Nate, somehow I end up revealing more to you than I have ever revealed to anyone, ever before, and it unnerves me. I just know if we go too fast, I’ll either lash out at you with my wretchedly sharp tongue, or I’ll run.”

  Nate smiled and shook his head. “All right, you’ve convinced me. We will go more slowly. But tell me, Mrs. Fuller, what does going slowly mean? Are you saying that I can’t see you as often? In the future will a carriage ride such as this be out of bounds? Am I not allowed to take you in my arms when you start to cry? Or . . . oh my heavens, you don’t mean we can only see each other under the chaperonage of the Miss Moffets!”

  Annie laughed at the real sound of outrage in this last question and said, “I personally think a little traditional courting wouldn’t be amiss. And, if you need the presence of the Moffets to remind you that simple conversation is how we will get to know each other better, then so be it.”

  Annie was still chuckling, her heart feeling lighter than it had since All Hallow’s Eve, when they pulled up to the lawn that stretched out in front of the Conservatory. Annie wasn’t sure why Mrs. Hunt had asked Nate and her to meet them this Sunday, although she assumed Evie May would be the subject of their conversation. The night of the fire, Detective Jackson had given Flora Hunt permission to take Evie May home with her when it became clear that they weren’t going to get anything coherent from the girl. Evie May had subsided into a near comatose state as soon as she became the focus of attention. With her mother dead and the Framptons in police custody, Jackson didn’t know what else to do with the odd child.

  As Nate looked for a place to tie up the horses, Annie asked if he knew the purpose of this meeting.

  “When I talked with Mrs. Hunt on Wednesday at the office, she said that it would be good for Evie May to see you outdoors for the first time, since the trauma you both went through happened in such close quarters,” Nate replied.

  “That makes perfect sense. You mentioned seeing her in your office? Does Mrs. Hunt feel she needs legal protection for Evie May? Has Jackson tried to interview her again?”

  “No, he hasn’t. Frankly, after I told him a little of the girl’s history and her strange behavior, he decided that any testimony he did get from her wouldn’t hold up in court.”

  Nate got down from the carriage, tied the horses to the rail, and then came around to help Annie alight.

  As Nate grabbed her around the waist to lift her down, she slid her hands up his arms, feeling the strong muscles he’d used to free her from her assailant and later to carry her down a ladder out of a burning building, and she felt an unexpected warmth, not entirely attributable to the autumn sun. When she was back on her feet, she said, “Tell me, why were you meeting with Mrs. Hunt?”

  “She has asked me to work informally with Mrs. Gordon to draft up papers of adoption for Evie May on behalf of her and her husband.”

  “I am so glad! If anyone can help that young girl, Mrs. Hunt can. I don’t know what horrors happened in her childhood, or while she worked for the Framptons, but something terrible happened to make her the way she is. And then to see her own mother killed.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Hunt feels that given her own history and their financial resources, which will help her get the girl the medical help she needs, they are the best persons to care for her. I think the court will agree.”

  “Is there any chance that relatives might come forward to contest the decision?”

  “Mrs. Hunt has, on my advice, hired a local detective firm to make enquires back east, but even if she located Evie May’s siblings, she has the resources to challenge them in court. No, the most troublesome threat to adoption might come from Judge Babcock, who has made noises about becoming the girl’s guardian.”

  “No, that would be terrible,” Annie exclaimed, her stomach turning at the idea of Evie May under the control of that clearly deluded man.

  “I think that his claim that Evie May is his reincarnated daughter will probably not go over well with the court, and Mrs. Hunt seems to have satisfied him by promising that he can visit Evie May, with the girl’s permission, and under strict supervision.”

  As they walked up the hill to the Conservatory, Annie saw what looked on the surface to be a p
erfectly normal family grouping, Mrs. Hunt and her husband, sitting on a bench and looking fondly down at a young girl, perhaps, twelve or thirteen, playing on the grass at their feet with a silky-haired spaniel. Annie realized she was very nervous about this meeting with Evie May, not knowing what to expect, or whom, for that matter, she would meet.

  As Nate went over and shook hands with the Hunts, Annie came and lowered herself to the ground so that the puppy was between Evie May and herself. She said in as pleasant and neutral a voice as possible, “What an adorable dog. Does she have a name?”

  Evie May ran her hand along the dog’s ears and said happily, in Maybelle’s voice, “Yes, I named her Annie, after you. She’s got the same brown hair and brown eyes as you, can’t you see?” Startled, Annie looked up at Flora Hunt, who said reassuringly, “Evie May has decided to let Maybelle come to the park today. She wanted to tell you about the puppy.”

  Putting her hand on Evie May’s shoulder, Mrs. Hunt said to the girl, “Mrs. Fuller is very flattered that you named the puppy for her. We think Annie is a beautiful name. But would Evie May herself feel comfortable spending some time with us?”

  Annie watched in fascination as the girl straightened, stared at nothing for a split second, and then pulled her legs around to sit more demurely. She reached out a hand to Annie and said with the self-conscious politeness of a maturing girl, “I am so glad to see you, Mrs. Fuller. Mrs. Hunt has told me that I have much to thank you for, not the least, for introducing me to her. I hope you don’t mind that we named the puppy for you, but it made the child happy.”

  Annie shook the slim hand that was offered her and said, “It is my pleasure, Evie May, and I am delighted to have such a lovely namesake.”

  For a moment nothing was said, as both she and Evie May played with the puppy, who had turned over to offer them her belly. For some reason, Annie felt sad, sitting with this very proper girl, and once again that afternoon she found herself sighing.

  Evie May looked up at her with those odd hazel eyes, glanced over at Nate, who had come to sit down next to Annie, and suddenly grinned, a very familiar grin. Eddie then winked and said, “Lady, mighty glad to see you’re doing all right. Maybelle and I, well, we think someday when you decide to get hitched, you will make a great ma.”

  Annie leaned against Nate’s shoulder and smiled.

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  First, I would like to express my appreciation for all the indie authors whose guidance, support, and enthusiasm have made my career as an author both possible and successful. A special thanks goes out to April Hamilton, Joel Friedlander, and the members of the Historical Fiction Authors Cooperative, particularly Martha Marks and Iva Polansky.

  Next, I would also like to acknowledge all the people who bought my first book, wrote reviews, and sent me personal words of support, since they have made this whole business of writing and self-publishing a complete joy.

  Finally, I would like to thank Catherine Coyne, Wendy Cregan, William Drescher, Dottie Huber Engel, Pamela Lyons, Pat McClintock, Gloria Robinson, and Kay Zoldos, fans of my work who took the time to be beta readers. Any errors that remain are my complete responsibility!

  Unless otherwise noted, all chapter tags are quotes from the 1879 San Francisco Chronicle.

  About the Author

  M. Louisa Locke, recently retired from over twenty years as a professor of U.S. Women’s History, has embarked on a second career as the author of novels and short stories set in Victorian San Francisco. She is a proud and successful indie author, and her first book, Maids of Misfortune, and the short story, Dandy Detects, are best-sellers in the historical mystery category. She currently lives in San Diego with her husband and assorted animals, working on the third installment in her Victorian San Francisco Mystery series, featuring teachers, entitled Bloody Lessons. Check out http://mlouisalocke.com/ for information on her journey as an indie author and a deeper glimpse into the world of Victorian San Francisco.