by Rue Allyn
“Then we better start walking, ’cause we ain’t getting no ransom this night.”
“We got a carriage. We can ride out of town then sell the coach when we’re far enough away. The money won’t get us to Cuba, but at least that bitch was good for something.” Gravel added his curses to Twang’s as their voices faded away.
Mae waited, shivering with shock and fear that the men would return. How long should I wait before emerging to see if they are truly gone?
Kiera would check now. She’d take a barrel stave as a club and whack anyone opposing her on the head. Edith would wait. She’d plan while she waited. Like Kiera, she’d probably find a weapon. Then she would determine her location and decide the best means of getting home. Or would she go to James’s office first?
Mae looked at her bedraggled dress and sniffed the whiskey-soaked air. She wanted to go home, but if James’s office was closer she should go there. She needed help more than she needed to repair her appearance.
She listened a few moments more and heard nothing save the distant bark of a dog. Had she waited long enough? What would she do if the men lay in wait for her? Filled with trepidation, she pushed open the cover of the barrel.
An unaccustomed and oddly pleasant tension shivered through her. Not more fear, that emotion was too well known. No, this sizzling tension was more like anticipation combined with apprehension.
She couldn’t possibly be exhilarated by the risks she’d taken. Could she?
• • •
At 2:30 p.m. James W. Collins V examined his pocket watch for the fourth time before he opened the door to the outer office of his law firm. “Harry, has Miss Alden sent any word as to why she’s late or let us know if she’s canceled our appointment?”
“Not that I know. . . Oh, I forgot. I found a letter on the floor about an hour ago. I must not have heard the messenger, and he slipped it under the door, thinking we were closed for lunch.”
James bit his tongue to keep from shouting his irritation at the old clerk. Harry had been with the firm since the doors opened thirty years ago. While he had occasional lapses in memory and saw less well than he once did, he knew everything about every case and client in the firm’s history. His knowledge was invaluable; putting up with minor lapses was a small price.
“Let me have it.”
“What, sir?”
“The letter you found on the floor.”
“Oh, yes. Now where did I put that?” Harry spent long moments searching and finally found the document on the seat of his desk chair.
“Here you are, sir.”
The paper was warm and slightly creased, but James took it anyway and tore open the envelope.
Mister Collins,
We have Miss Alden. Place $100,000.00 inside a carpet bag. Leave the bag behind Mr. C. Alden IV’s headstone at the Central Burying Ground. Then walk to Boylston Street. A boy will find you with instructions on how to get Miss Alden back. If the money is not given on time or you call in the police, Miss Alden will disappear from Boston forever.
“Harry, get the police here at once.”
“Why?”
“I will explain later.”
“Yes, sir.” Harry donned his coat and hat then searched for and found his umbrella.
“Would you hurry, man? Miss Alden’s been abducted.”
“What? When? How? I’d better go for the police.”
James ground his teeth. “Excellent idea.”
Harry made for the door, but it opened before he could touch the knob.
Huffing as if she’d run a great distance, a woman stood framed in the doorway. Her rain-sodden hair dragged down her face and across her shoulders. Her dress was muddy, crumpled, and her neckline askew. She smelled like a violet-strewn whiskey factory.
“This is no place for the likes of you. Get on your way,” ordered Harry. He shifted to block her path into the office. “I’m going for the police.”
“No, please. You don’t understand.” She stopped for breath. “I’m Persephone Mae Alden.”
Her elocution was at odds with her odor and appearance. Tremors shook the timid voice, and James noticed the shivers racking the woman’s small frame.
Harry snorted. “I doubt that. Miss Alden is a well-bred miss and would never. . .”
James finally recognized the delicate bone structure obscured by the mass of wet hair and moved Harry aside. “Forgive my clerk, Miss Alden. He’s somewhat overprotective.”
“Sir!” objected Harry. “You cannot believe this drab.”
“If you wore your spectacles, you would see that Miss Alden is no drab. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her identity in her voice. Come into my office, Miss Alden. I gather you escaped your captors. Harry fetch some tea.”
“Mae, please. With all that’s happened, standing on ceremony is more effort than I can manage. I did escape, but how did you know, Mr. Collins?”
“If I am to address you as Mae, you must call me James.” He ushered her into his office and settled her near the pot bellied stove, placing a woolen lap rug around her shoulders. “I just received the ransom note. Excuse me a moment. I’ll have my clerk send for your maid and a change of clothing then he will go for the police.”
“Tell him to ask for the second housemaid. Most of the staff at the manse are ill with colds. I would not have any of them exposed to this wretched weather.”
James stared at her a moment. He’d never met a woman more concerned for her servants than her appearance. Perhaps there was more to Miss Mae Alden than their few previous encounters led him to believe.
CHAPTER TWO
Within the hour Mae’s appearance was restored to order, her damp locks tamed by a dozen pins. She had moved from the settee near the stove to a cushioned chair in front of James’s desk and was sipping her second cup of fragrant oolong. The police had come and gone after taking her statement and a description of the stolen carriage.
“Thank you very much for all of your help, James.”
“Anyone would do the same.”
“Perhaps.” Considering her kidnappers and her grandfather, she could not agree. To avoid conflict, she demurred. His tone, his comforting arm as he guided her to a chair before his desk, his consideration of her every need in the aftermath of the horrifying incident all spoke of a man the complete opposite of her grandfather. She hoped that was true, and James wasn’t simply coddling a silly woman.
“Are you certain you wish to continue with the reading? I confess, most of the women of my acquaintance would be prostrate for a week after an attempted abduction.”
“The suspense would cause me more anguish than today’s events. I would much rather continue than not.”
“As you wish. Before we begin, I am obliged to inform you that in addition to you and your sisters, the Boston Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals is also claimant to the estate. The Society has been notified by letter of the terms of the will since it was unable to send a representative and has waived the privilege of being present. Now let us start.” James took his seat, produced a sheaf of papers, and placed a copy of the will in front of her, retaining a copy for himself.
Mae set her cup aside but left the papers on the glossy desk. “We should wait until my sisters can return. They should, at least, be given the opportunity to waive their right to be here.”
Unused to making demands, she issued the protest in the calm, quiet tones that served her well as the ward of a volatile, woman-hating autocrat who never chose to spare the rod. Her soothing tone was only one of several appeasing strategies developed over the years since her parents’ deaths.
An expression of pained sympathy dashed across James’s face, and a sigh escaped his lips. “Your sister, Kiera, ran off more than three years ago and has not been heard from. At the funeral you told me that Miss Edith Alden has fallen ill during her visit with family in Maine and cannot travel. As there is no indication as to when either of them might return, I’m afraid waiting is out of the quest
ion.”
She took his emphatic sigh to mean that, like Grandfather, James had no patience with feminine concerns. His earlier kindness was just as he’d claimed—the action of any moral person. Most likely her wishful thinking had amplified simple good manners into something more. Nonetheless, her sisters deserved to be represented, though she dared not tell him that contrary to Grandfather’s wishes Edith searched for Kiera in San Francisco. Perhaps a stronger protest would serve.
“Couldn’t we. . .”
“As executor of your grandfather’s estate, I cannot delay longer.” James shook his head. The consideration she still viewed in his expressive hazel eyes stood at odds with his refusal. Maybe he did understand? Don’t be a goose, Mae chided herself. He doesn’t care a whit for you or your sisters.
Distracted by her inner debate she blurted a nervous, “Why?”
She put her fingers to her lips, astonished at her own question.
“Because your grandfather gave specific written instructions that the will was to be read within a week of his funeral.”
So Grandfather was still in charge. However, he couldn’t beat her any more, and she was the only one who could defend her sisters’ rights. She forced herself to try again. “But my sisters…”
“Please cease,” James said with a restrained impatience that stripped away all appearance of empathy and ruthlessly quelled her unruly imagination. He raised his hand to forestall further speech. “You cannot reasonably expect us to wait an indefinite amount of time to settle the estate. Neither the will nor the law permits that. Now, I, Carlton Rosencrantz Alden IV, being of sound mind. . .”
Chastising herself for her inability to stand up for her sisters as they would for her, Mae sat back in her chair. She listened with half an ear to the droning words.
Had Edith been here, she would have walked out. As the eldest, Edith was nothing if not decisive and, once decided, would let nothing deter her—not even Grandfather’s violent temper. However, Mae was not made of such stern stuff. Although, she smiled with secret excitement, she had managed to escape abduction without anyone’s help. No doubt that her courage born of necessity would never be seen again.
Mae knew she was a coward at heart. She folded her hands in her lap, prepared to endure the reading as she endured everything for the majority of her life. In all likelihood, the will would be read whether she remained present or not.
What horrors lurked in Grandfather’s last testament? She envied her sisters, but someone had to stay behind—to tend Grandfather during his coma, to lay a false trail so Edith would have time to find Kiera, to represent them all should Grandfather succumb to his injuries. Well, he had died, and now Mae must deal with the consequences alone.
“. . . I have no male heirs.”
She dragged her attention back to the reading.
“I dictate that the various Alden manufactories and warehouses be converted into shelters for homeless dogs under the auspices of the recently formed Boston Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.”
Mae leaned forward. “Surely he made some provision for his employees? Jobs are scarce. If the mill closes, the workers will starve.”
James shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
The injustice of Grandfather’s posthumous cruelty combined with weariness, worry, and James’s seeming indifference to the situation made her careless. “So cruelty to humans is permissible but not to dogs? Did you advise him to do this?”
Mae struggled to suppress the outrage that tightened her voice and threatened to topple barriers tested by years of holding back her true thoughts and feelings. The James of her daydreams was the least likely man to endorse cruelty—and Grandfather’s will instructed cruelty, plain and simple. Having no close acquaintance with James in reality, she had no evidence for her assumptions.
Save for the pastor, his wife, and the poor people whom she taught to read, Mae had so little contact with anyone outside the manse that she could hardly be blamed if she’d imagined a gentle and loving nature for the handsome attorney. Evidently she had made an ill choice of white knight.
He bent a stare on her, but she could not read his expression. “An attorney’s advice to his client is a private matter. Now please allow me to complete the reading.”
Mae shrank back against her chair and once more fell silent. She’d crossed some invisible male line. So much for imagined gentleness, she’d been put firmly in her place as a woman whose only privilege was to obey. She stared at her clasped hands and tried to still the tremors that shook her lips. She really shouldn’t let a simple stare intimidate her. Somewhere she had to find the courage to face James as an equal. After all, what could he do to her that would be worse than anything Grandfather mandated? James Collins might be executor, but he had no legal authority over her person. She had recently reached her majority and had managed to elude kidnappers, despite her fears. She felt again that furtive thrill. Perhaps she could safely go about Boston on her own. Perhaps she could even question James about the will.
She squared her shoulders and raised her head. “Did our grandfather make any provision for my sisters and me? How are we to live? Feed and clothe ourselves?”
“Miss Alden—Mae—aside from a small temporary stipend, which I must administer, no direct bequest exists for you or either of your sisters. I will pay the household expenses directly from the stipend. However, I am about to complete the reading. Then you will know everything I know.”
His tone, still tight, had gentled somewhat. No doubt he observed how upset his irritability made her and, like any man, was trying to prevent a hysterical outburst. As if she’d ever been hysterical, she’d practiced invisibility and restraint all her life. Hysteria would bring too much attention.
“But will I understand it?” she muttered to herself. “This will is wrapped in the most obscure language.”
James remained impassive. “I shall be happy to respond to any reasonable questions, if you will cease interrupting.”
She hadn’t thought she’d spoken above a whisper. Mae pressed her lips together and tightened her grip. She wanted to scream and rant, but years of Grandfather’s temper had taught her tantrums would gain nothing more than an ill-favored reputation.
“The entire remainder of my estate shall be liquidated, and the monies endowed to support the canine facilities. This is my wish, unless one of my three granddaughters bears a child within two years from the day this will is read.”
“Surely there is some mistake.” Mae blinked rapidly. A puzzled frown broke her normally serene mask. Heat rose to her face as she realized the full implication of the will’s terms. Edith would have leaped up and pounded the desk in outrage. Kiera would have swept out in a huff of revolted beauty and grace, escaping even while her demeanor chastised. As for Mae’s firmly voiced objection, she could only blame shock.
James’s expression remained blank. “The terms are unusual.”
“They are definitely out of character, given Grandfather’s certainty that only men can manage money. I find it difficult to believe he would encourage immorality, nor would he permit even the smallest opportunity for us to inherit without husbands to dictate our lives.” To avoid revealing the embarrassment and dismay screeching protest in her mind Mae kept her speech slow and measured. The absence of any marriage requirement stunned and appalled her. “Did he write of where we are to live during these two years?”
“You will reside at the manse and continue as you have in the past. In the absence of a male heir, requiring a marriageable heiress to bear a child before inheriting is rare, though not unheard of.”
“’Rare’ is a mild word for it. To force one of us to bear a child without requiring a marriage first is sinful if not criminal. You and your father before you represented Grandfather for decades. You must know that his morality was exceeded only by his violent temper.” Tightness crept into her voice. Behind her outward calm burned outrage-fueled fury that all but incinerated her usual caution.
“The will says all three sisters? Kiera is not excluded?”
“I believe Mr. Alden thought the consequences of her own actions would exclude her.”
How very like him. Mae leaned back. “Nonetheless, encouraging female independence is not at all like our grandfather.”
“I will remind you that the lack of a requirement to wed does not preclude your ability to do so. Also, for your benefit, I suggest you direct all suitors to me. I may be better able to discern the fortune hunters and ne’er-do-wells.”
Mae dismissed the suggestion without comment. She’d handled Mr. Van Wynde well enough, and living in imposed seclusion, she’d never met an eligible parti. With Grandfather as her examplar of male behavior, she doubted she would accept any proposal even if she imagined she loved the man. “The will was obviously executed at a time when Grandfather was mentally incompetent. Can it be set aside?”
In his first show of reaction, James’s face turned a dull shade of red. Was he angry or embarrassed because of his part in creating this disastrous document?
He once more cleared his throat. “As I mentioned earlier, your grandfather provided a small stipend over the next two years for feminine necessities and household expenses. You will apply to me should you wish to draw on the stipend. However, I doubt the amount would be sufficient to cover the costs of any attempt to set the will aside. Nothing indicates that your Grandfather was in any way mentally impaired.”
Mae finally regained her equilibrium and suppressed the turmoil the horrifying clause prompted. “Then, if Grandfather was sane, where did this insulting clause come from?”
“I reviewed the notes taken during my deceased father’s last consultation with your grandfather and the draft of the will Mr. Alden signed a month before his accident. According to those notes—which I confess are difficult to read and somewhat confusing—Mr. Alden did intend to require marriage as well as the birth of a child. He also planned to set the husband and father as trustee, ensuring male management of the estate. Unfortunately, between the time he spoke with my father and the actual drafting of the will by our clerk, all mention of marriage was dropped.”
