The Gold Miner's Wife: A Young Woman's Story of Romance, Passion and Murder

by Creek, Amethyst

  Christmas had been a grand affair. The house was bedecked with mistletoe, holly and ivy and an evergreen tree, beautifully decorated, brightened the drawing room. Each day, more Christmas cards arrived in the post. Lady Alice was so much improved from her illness that she was persuaded to supervise some of the holiday preparations herself. Susannah and Catori along with Edward Mansfield, Charlotte and Susannah’s former governess, Miss Parker and her betrothed, Mr. Griswold, all enjoyed a traditional roast beef Christmas dinner hosted by Lady Alice. The meal included a delicious Christmas pudding made with beef, raisins and prunes; tasty mince pies were served at the last. Later, the Christmas Crackers were opened with a ‘bang’ to reveal sweets, mottos, paper hats and trinkets all wrapped up in a twist of fancy paper. The evening ended with parlor games and the singing of carols including ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ and ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’. It was gratifying for Susannah to see her grandmother so well recovered and having such an enjoyable time. It also seemed that Catori, although so very far from home, was taking great pleasure in the celebration, tasting new foods, learning new traditions and reacquainting herself with Miss Parker after a lapse of several years.

  With the encouragement of Lady Alice, the long-standing friendship between Edward and Susannah seemed to be evolving into something much more familiar. At her grandmother’s urging, Susannah had agreed to attend this evening’s New Year’s Ball with Edward at the Mayfair Hotel in Stoke-on-Trent. “Go and have fun,” was Lady Alice’s advice. Was Edward falling in love with her? Edward had always been a friend; why now, after so many years, was he interested in taking the relationship further? What was the direction of her thoughts?

  Susannah found that she was gnawed by doubts; Jack was frequently on her mind. If she had not been called away from Denver, their hungry lips would have found each other again, of that she was sure. Perhaps it was a good thing that she was far away from him for now. It allowed her an opportunity to analyze her feelings. She was strongly attracted to him, knew him, trusted him. Susannah was not expecting the powerful frisson of pleasure she felt when Jack first kissed her. It had been a moment that had swept her away. Recalling that passionate scene aroused her, stirred her blood. Sometimes he visited her in her dreams at night.

  Edward called for her at seven o’clock. Susannah had chosen a dark green silk gown for the occasion and dressed with extra care. It was tastefully trimmed with white Belgium lace and had a slight train. The bodice and waistline fit her form, complimented her figure. She felt attractive. She wore Edward’s very thoughtful Christmas gift: an exquisite pearl necklace with matching earrings. Susannah was in the mood to celebrate. In only a few hours it would be the beginning of a New Year – 1877; a time to look ahead to new possibilities and to the future. She was ready to leave behind her solitary existence. She had experienced enough sadness. It was time to be optimistic. In the New Year she would regain her equilibrium. She wanted her life to return to normal.

  Edward assisted her into the carriage. He thoughtfully provided heated bricks to keep her feet warm during the five-mile ride to Stoke-on-Trent. They sat side by side. He held her hand.

  “You are beautiful, Susannah,” he told her. “The other women will pale in your presence.”

  “Edward, you will make me blush.”

  “And you wore my pearls,” he noted, reaching to touch them. His fingers lightly brushed the skin above her breast.

  “They are lovely, Edward, and I am very glad you have asked me to this ball,” she continued. “I have not attended one since…since…,” but she looked away.

  “Shh. It’s alright,” he reassured her, squeezing her hand. “You are to have fun this evening or I shall be cross with you,” he teased. “New Year’s eve is a time of letting go of the past and looking toward the future.”

  “Yes, you are right, of course,” she said regaining her composure. “I will enjoy the evening and may even drink more champagne than is prudent. I think it is my weakness,” she told him playfully.

  “You should never tell a gentleman your weakness, sweetheart,” he advised, while making a mental note of her revelation.

  “But it is because you are a gentleman that I do tell you,” she countered.

  “Now that I know your weakness I will redouble my efforts to keep you safe,” he said convincingly. “Otherwise Lady Alice will no longer trust me.” The carriage turned, then slowed. “Ah, I think we have arrived.”

  She pushed the curtain aside and looked out the window. A long line of lamp lit carriages waited for their turn to pull up under the porte cochere and discharge their passengers. Attendees dressed in evening finery were making their way up the marble steps into the gaily lit hotel.

  Edward turned toward her, pulled her hand to his chest and leaned closer. “Remember, the night is yours, Susannah. You are to have fun, darling. But first, please, you must let me kiss you. I must taste your sweet lips again or go mad,” he said as his lips hovered near hers. He kissed her tenderly. It was a kiss that lingered, he pulled her closer, into a warm embrace. She steadied herself, her hands went to his shoulders. His blood stirred, he was winning her, he thought, breaking down her defenses, erasing all her memories of Thomas. Without doubt, he would soon have this temptress in his bed and have control of her significant fortune. They heard the driver step down, reluctantly he ended the kiss and let her go as the carriage door was opened.

  The glittering ballroom of the Mayfair Hotel was packed with New Year’s revelers. The atmosphere was festive; everyone was in a good humor. Guests were engaged in lively conversation and laughter as they waited for the music to begin. The magnificent interior of the ballroom featured white and gold stucco decorations, tall crystal glass mirrors and ceiling frescoes of gilded floral designs. Gaslights attached to the walls cast square pools of soft light throughout the hall. Servers carrying silver trays laden with champagne and rum punch made their way through the crowd offering refreshments to everyone. A buffet was set up in the adjoining salon where guests might help themselves to an assortment of other delicacies.

  Throughout the cheerful evening Edward attended to his prize with all the diligence of a favored suitor. He strolled about the ballroom holding her hand on his sleeve and making polite conversation with various acquaintances. He claimed the first dance, a waltz, holding her close to him as he swept her into the tight turns. She could feel the friction of his powerful thighs as her gown brushed against his legs. Following protocol, he dutifully stood by while Susannah took turns dancing with several other men. He brought her champagne while she sat and chatted with Lady Pomeroy, an old friend. He stood nearby, sipping his champagne, observing, and let their chatter flow around him.

  She was thoroughly enjoying herself. Her troubles were behind her now. 1876 would soon fade into the past, he thought. Getting to this moment, to be here, at this ball, with Susannah, had been a great deal of trouble for him. But he had made it his life’s work to secure a wealthy wife and finally everything was falling into place. There would be sunnier days ahead. Edward took her hand and led her to the dance floor once again for another waltz. He looked down at her radiant skin, her delicate lashes dusting rosy cheeks, his shimmering pearls resting on alabaster skin above the swell of her breasts.

  “You are an exceptional dancer,” he flattered her. “So very graceful.”

  “Thank you, Edward,” she said politely. “The musicians are very talented.”

  “Yes. The dance floor is certainly crowded,” he noted. “Why don’t we pause and take some refreshment?” he suggested. She nodded. As the waltz ended, he maneuvered them to the edge of the ballroom, close to the atrium. A server passed nearby, offering champagne. Edward removed two glasses and passed one to Susannah. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Shall we stroll in the atrium?” he asked. “I think we will find it a bit cooler there.” He offered her his arm, opened the glass door and led her through into the quieter atrium. There were only a few other couples about. As they
strolled their footfalls echoed on the marble floor of the large chamber. In a secluded corner, a stone bench was situated near a large column and Edward motioned for her to be seated.

  “I wish to toast you, Susannah,” he said, sitting next to her. He raised his glass. “To your health and happiness and bright new beginnings in 1877.”

  “To 1877,” she repeated, tipping her glass toward his. She smiled and sipped her champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose and soothing her throat. But she sipped her champagne warily, uneasy about the direction of Edward’s intentions concerning her person and even more troubled by what to do about it.

  “I hope you are finding this event a pleasant way to begin the New Year,” he said.

  “Oh yes!” she replied enthusiastically, taking another sip. “It has been beyond my expectations.”

  “That is what we like to hear, sweetheart,” he said. They finished their last few sips together. Then Edward retrieved her glass, placing them both on the marble floor beneath the bench.

  He took her hand, drew her closer as his arm came around her and then his lips were on hers again. “To 1877, Susannah,” he whispered. The kiss was urgent, intense, possessive.

  “Edward,” she started to protest. “I do not think…”

  “Please, my darling,” he coaxed. “You must not deny me this kiss. You must know how I feel about you. I adore you.” His lips were on hers again. Her left hand went to his shoulder as she sought to steady herself. Then his tongue swept inside and plundered her mouth. Her every sense tingled with awareness; it was the champagne. She had to end this, but then, what was one kiss? She was at war with her resolve. Allowing one kiss would be giving him permission to take another. Her muscles were taut with apprehension. She did not have the stomach to declare an unambiguous rejection. She could not bear to see the disappointment in his eyes after everything he had done.

  “Edward,” she began again, “I cannot…”

  But he ignored her. “That fragrance, rosewater, it is intoxicating,” he said with a gravelly voice. His lips trailed kisses along her cheek and down the column of her throat. He continued his onslaught as he cupped her breast, kneaded, assessed. Gauged her reaction, assessed her.

  But she could not allow it. She could not allow him to continue down this path unbidden. She was a widow after all; he would understand as any gentleman would. She pulled away. “I am sorry, Edward,” she said softly. “I have enjoyed this evening so very much and I have you to thank. But I still mourn for Thomas, I am emotionally adrift.”

  “Then let me be your anchor,” he suggested, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

  “I am not ready to become romantically involved,” she answered.

  He stilled. His eyes bored into hers as he took her measure. “You do not wish to become romantically involved, or not involved with me, Susannah?” he asked crossly. His gaze seemed to hold a certain menace, or maybe it was her imagination.

  “I do not wish to become romantically involved at all, at least for now,” she lied, trying to be convincing. “It is not you. I am simply not ready.”

  Stubborn little slut, he thought. “Well then,” he said smoothly, taking it all in stride. “I am at your service. When you are ready, then,” he added. “In the meantime, I will have to be more persuasive. Are you of a mind to return to Larkspur now?” he asked.

  “Yes, Edward. And please know that I had a lovely time this evening,” she told him reassuringly. “You must know I wish all good things for you in 1877,” she added. The carriage ride home passed quietly enough. Susannah rested her head on Edward’s shoulder and feigned sleep. To further rebuff Edward would thoroughly ruin the evening and she wanted to consider his feelings in this delicate matter.

  When they arrived at Larkspur, he escorted her up the marble steps and followed her into the foyer. The single oil lamp on the hallway table provided adequate illumination. As he helped Susannah with her wrap, he noticed a telegram awaiting her attention on the silver salver. He diverted her gaze away from the direction of the table, pinched the envelope and artfully slipped the message into his pocket. Then he gallantly took Susannah’s gloved hand and bestowed a kiss as he once again wished her infinite happiness in the year ahead. The parting was amicable; they were friends.

  Back inside his carriage, the lamplight was sufficient to allow him to read the contents of the purloined telegram. It was fortuitous indeed that he glimpsed the telegram and had the presence of mind to appropriate it as he found the contents to be quite astonishing:

  ‘Cookson discovered person responsible for Thomas’ death. Evidence shows Mansfield hired one John Brophy to set explosive. We leave immediately for England. Beware of Mansfield.’ Jack

  He angrily tore the telegram in two as his emotions ranged from incredulity to rage. Evidence? Evidence? What possible evidence could have been discovered to place him under suspicion? Mansfield never did things by half measures. Had he miscalculated? There was no evidence. Brophy was now back at High Park and he certainly wasn’t talking. There were dozens of men named John Brophy. The only person who saw them together in Pine Creek was the stupid prostitute, and while at the brothel, Mansfield had been very careful not to reveal his name. That the prostitute might ever be called upon to identify him was beyond preposterous. They were grasping at straws. Besides, he was a free citizen of a sovereign nation. The Americans had no legal jurisdiction to pursue criminal accusations in England. It was all bluff and bluster, speculation meant to cast suspicion on his integrity.

  Well, he had taken care of it for now. Let them have their theories. Susannah was unaware that she had even received a telegram, let alone one from Jack Simmons. He still had time to persuade her to marry him, at least three weeks by his estimate. He would call on her in a couple of days and be more convincing. The main thing was to remain calm and steady and committed to the plan. ‘Loose lips sink ships,’ as they say. Words to live by. His goal was within reach and it was attainable. This wasn’t a sprint, it was a marathon, and he was in for the long haul.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It was well past midnight when Catori heard the click of the adjoining bedroom door followed by the low sound of muffled voices. Despite her determination to stay awake she must have dozed. She wondered for how long. By the activity in the next room she knew that Susannah was now returned home and her personal maid was helping her out of her gown. Catori had been apprehensive since receiving an unexpected telegram from Jack Simmons earlier in the evening, the troubling nature of its contents too important to be left until morning. She pushed aside the counterpane, hopped out of bed and put on her wrap, then quietly made her way to the door of the adjoining bedchamber.

  “Susannah,” she called with a gentle knock.

  “Come in,” was the response. Susannah stood near the dressing table. She was fastening the belt about her robe while the maid disappeared into the dressing room with the gown. “Catori?” she said, looking surprised, “you are up late.”

  “Yes, I waited for you,” was the curious response.

  “Well, Happy New Year then,” said Susannah with a smile. “It is now officially January 1, 1877 and I am done in!”

  “That is not why I waited up,” Catori said, sounding uncharacteristically worried. “This telegram came shortly after you left,” she added, with her hand outstretched. “I think it is important that you read it.”

  “Now?” Susannah said in protest.

  “Yes, now,” was the unwavering response.

  Susannah took the telegram from her friend.

  ‘Telegram sent today to Susannah warning her of dangerous situation. Cookson and I travel to England tomorrow’

  Jack

  She raised a brow and looked at her friend. “Telegram? But I didn’t receive any telegram,” Susannah began.

  “Yes you did. It arrived along with this one. They came together. Yours is on the table in the hallway, near the lamp, where Mrs. Ross thought you would be sure to see it when you came in.” />
  “No, I did not see it,” she said, as both ladies quickly headed for the door. They hastily made their way down the stairs to the hallway near the foyer, but the silver salver that had contained the telegram was now empty.

  “Maybe it fell,” suggested Susannah as they both looked behind and underneath the table to no avail. “That is strange,” she added, as they continued to search.

  “I assure you, it was left here for you by Mrs. Ross,” Catori insisted, becoming more alarmed.

  “Maybe she decided to move it elsewhere. I will ask her in the morning,” said Susannah.

  “It was right here,” said Catori again.

  “I believe you. I will ask Mrs. Ross first thing in the morning. It is late and I do not wish to disturb her now,” said Susannah. She looked at Catori’s telegram again. “What possible ‘dangerous situation’ could Jack be talking about?” she wondered aloud. “And what would conceivably motivate Jack and Mr. Cookson to journey all the way to England?”

  “Something must be very wrong,” said Catori. “It is disquieting,”

  “I would have to agree, but without more information I do not know what the danger could possibly be. What might he mean by it?”

  “I do not know, but it sounds ominous. That he also sent a telegram to me sounds doubly ominous.”

  “We will see Mrs. Ross in the morning and all of this will be cleared up,” said Susannah.

  “What would you suggest we do to be on our guard?” asked Catori.

  “Oh I don’t know. Don’t venture out alone? Be more vigilant about locking doors? Be alert for anything unusual? Be wary of strangers?” suggested Susannah. “Do you feel unsafe?” she asked, trying to read her thoughts.

  “No. But I admit to feeling uneasy. I trust Mr. Simmons and also the detective he hired. He would not have sent a warning to both of us if it was not warranted,” said Catori.