EPILOGUE
My parents celebrated Frederick's senatorial victory by hosting a dinner party the weekend following the election. Frankly, I did not view my brother's success as cause for rejoicing. I was convinced that the men of California had suffered a severe lapse in judgment. I would like to think that had women been able to cast their own ballots, the populace might have been spared Frederick's potentially disastrous presence in its capital. As it was, I could only hope he would not have the opportunity to reek too much havoc on our fair state before the voters came to their senses in time for the next election.
Much to my surprise,Joseph Shepard accepted Frederick's invitation to attend the affair. I was surprised because since Eban Potter's suicide I had become persona non grata in the senior partner's eyes. Despite my successful efforts to have the charges against our client dropped, the sensational circumstances surrounding the case resulted in a barrage of unwelcome publicity for the law firm. Following the tragic events in the park, Shepard, Shepard, McNaughton
and Hall had found its way into every newspaper in the city every day for two weeks, an invasion of privacy for which I was held personally responsible. I daresay if my employer could have found a way to effect my dismissal without generating even more unwanted publicity—and the loss ofAnnjenett's substantial fortune— I’m sure he would have gleefully shown me out the door. As it was, he had no choice but to publicly applaud my achievement while privately lamenting my continued presence at his firm.
Catching Shepard's eye as he spoke to a group of attorneys, I smiled sweetly and was rewarded by a look that could have curdled milk. My father noted this exchange and shook his head at me in mock reproach. Truth to tell, Papa was enjoying the situation immensely. As he put it, the worm had already begun to turn. Although I had yet to win Joseph Shepard's respect, I had attracted the attention of one or two associate attorneys who, much to the senior partner's chagrin, had started sending minor cases my way. Considering the circumstances, Papa considered this high triumph indeed.
Perhaps the happiest ending to the Nob Hill murders was the news that Annjenett and Peter Fowler were to be married in the spring. To my astonishment, the dear woman requested that I act as her Maid of Honor. I tried to decline, protesting that she must know someone more suitable, but she would hear none of it. So, it appears I shall be present when my client's awful ordeal comes full circle. Although I’m not an ardent supporter of the married state, I must admit I have rarely seen a happier couple. Annjenett is absolutely radiant, and San Francisco Society—after learning of Mills's shabby treatment of Peter and his mother those long years ago—has taken the actor under its generous wing. When last I heard, he had accepted the lead role in a new play opening at the California Theater.
That evening brought even more good news. Samuel—whose Ian Fearless had been the first to break the story of the sex club and Eban Potter's dreadful revenge—informed me that Benjamin Wylde had been spotted slinking out of town. This hardly came as a surprise. Once word of his vile club became public, his clientele all but vanished overnight. Rumors of the questionable way he had come by his mining fortune also circulated, but I’m sorry to say that when it became known that it was a Chinaman's word against his, the stories quickly faded. So much for our modern day era of justice for all! As the last surviving member of the tontine he and his three mining partners established upon their return from Virginia city, Benjamin Wylde became the beneficiary of just over two hundred thousand dollars. Despite making a great show of donating this money to charity, however, his spiraling fall from grace was swift and unforgiving. For years a sought-after guest in the finest Nob Hill mansions, he was now shunned by San Francisco Society. What must have been even more painful, his beloved daughter Yvette sailed back to Paris soon after Potter's suicide. I’ve since heard that she has severed all contact with her father. Wylde's present whereabouts are unknown, and I think few care. For myself, I am relieved I will no longer have to gaze upon that arrogant face and those hard, cold eyes. Eban Potter may have wielded the murder knife, but the victims’ blood stained Wylde's hand as well. On his conscience, too, are the lives of all those unfortunate young women who fell into the clutches of the malevolent Devil's Club. No, I could find no pity in my heart for Benjamin Wylde. In my opinion he had received far better than he deserved.
I felt a hand on my arm and turned to find Robert standing behind me, dressed in the same ill-fitting tuxedo he had worn the night of the opera. The fabric was shiny and stretched so tightly across his broad chest that I feared the buttons might pop at any
moment. At the first opportunity I would have to prod him into buying some new clothes.
“What's going on in that overactive brain of yours?” he asked. “I could see the wheels turning from across the room.”
“Actually, I was thinking that you should consider a new wardrobe. You need suitable evening attire, of course, and an appropriate suit or two to wear in court. We’ll want to form a favorable impression on the jury.”
“ We!” He gave a loud guffaw. “So now you fancy yourself arguing cases in a court of law. Trust me, Sarah, it’ll be a cold day in hell before Joseph Shepard allows a woman attorney in the courtroom. Especially if that woman is you.”
“We’ll see about that,” I answered primly. I was disappointed by his reaction, but not wholly surprised. I’ve noticed that most men have a difficult time dealing with change, especially when that change involves allowing women into positions of power. I daresay Robert was no exception. In time—and with dedicated and persistent effort on our parts—that attitude is bound to change. In the meantime, women will have to make do with conquering one small mountain at a time.
“I don’t like that look in your eye,” he went on. “It invariably spells trouble. Have you learned nothing over these past months? You can’t mean to become involved in that sort of thing again. Damn it all, woman, it's too dangerous!”
His Scottish r's were rolling nicely as he warmed to the subject of what he termed my “incessant meddling in other people's affairs.” I waited patiently until he had wound down, then remarked calmly, “You really must learn to control your temper, Robert. It can’t be good for your health and will certainly prove a liability in your work. You’ll have to remain composed and focused if we’re to be successful in the courtroom.”
“There you go again!” he exploded. “Of all the thickheaded, opinionated females—”
I refused to allow this outburst to spoil my good temper.
“Let's find some lemonade,” I said, taking his arm. “It's just the thing to cool you off. After that, I’d like to discuss an interesting case that has come to my attention—”
HISTORICAL NOTE
It has come to my attention that some readers of this narrative have expressed doubts concerning my legal credentials. Considering the widespread bias against professional women during the years I have recounted, this skepticism is not wholly unjustified. I hasten to assure you, however, that not only was I a bonafide attorney in the year 1880, I was not the first female to attain this distinction. I was, in fact, the third.
The first woman to browbeat her way “through the marshes of ignorance and prejudice” was Clara Shortridge Foltz, who was admitted to the California bar in September of 1878. She achieved this triumph by drafting what became known as “The Woman Lawyer's Bill,” then lobbying the state legislature until it was ratified and women were at long last allowed to become working attorneys.
Following closely upon Mrs. Foltz's victory was Laura De Force Gordon who, shortly after opening her law practice in 1879, became the first woman to argue a murder case in a San Francisco courtroom—and argue it successfully, I might add.
These two women were my inspiration. It was they who blazed the ar-
duous, frustrating trail I was to follow. Because ofthem, I was able to realize my dream. Whatever success I have achieved over the course ofmy legal career, I owe to the pioneering efforts ofthese dedicated and coura
geous women.
Yours sincerely,
Sarah Woolson
Table of Contents
COVER PAGE
TITLE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Epilogue
Historical-Note
Murder on Nob Hill Page 26
