Pilfered Promises

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Pilfered Promises Page 30

by M. Louisa Locke


  He nodded his agreement and took the keys from her. It took a few seconds for him to find the right key, but as soon as he unlocked the door, she followed him into the apartment foyer. Off to the left, on the opposite side of the parlor, a door stood open, revealing a large bedroom. Annie thought she heard someone crying. Nate held his hand up and walked to the bedroom doorway. Annie peeked around him and saw that on the far side of the room was another door that had been pulled off its hinges.

  Her heart sinking, she took Nate’s hand in hers, and they walked quietly across the room. Sitting on the tiled bathroom floor, a sobbing Villeneuve held the deathly still body of his wife.

  Chapter 33

  “But the presents would lose half their charm did they not come through the medium of the huge stocking, religiously pinned to the chimney side…”––San Francisco Chronicle December 25, 1880

  Friday evening, December 24, 1880

  Dandy leapt higher and higher, trying to snatch the bone Jamie held temptingly right out of reach. Kathleen laughed and said, “Sometimes I think that dog is part frog. Do give the treat to him. He’s going to hurt himself, Jamie.”

  “Oh, look, he’s dancing,” Emmaline said with delight.

  And sure enough, Dandy briefly balanced on his hind legs in what looked like a jig before sitting down at Jamie’s command. Jamie said “Good dog” and gave him the bone, and everyone watched as the pup took it eagerly over to the corner by the back stairs where there was an old folded quilt for him to lie on when he visited the kitchen.

  Kathleen thought, not for the first time, “Thank goodness for Jamie and his dog.”

  When a cab dropped her mistress and the girl off at the boarding house a little after three, the poor child was practically mute with misery. Her eyes were red from crying, and Kathleen was shocked when she saw that one pale cheek bore the signs of being slapped.

  But her mistress knew just what to do. She’d sent Tilly upstairs to get Jamie and Dandy, while asking Kathleen to fix the child some toast and heat up some beef broth for her.

  Later, she’d told Kathleen that the doctor who’d been called into the Silver Strike said it didn’t look like the child had swallowed much of the laudanum that the Frenchwoman gave her. But he’d also said that to be safe they should get some food down her and keep her awake. When Jamie arrived with Dandy, her mistress had taken him aside and told him briefly what had happened and that Emmaline needed to be distracted. Jamie’d had his own sorry history with tragedy, so he knew just what she meant.

  So, while the girl ate, he chattered to her about the treats in store for them both later this evening, including hanging up stockings in the parlor. Then he challenged her to a knucklebone tournament that Dandy kept trying to horn in on, to everyone’s merriment. His mother came down at some point and told him he could eat his dinner with Emmaline in the kitchen. Then the two of them helped Tilly, who wasn’t that much older than they were, do the washing up.

  With each passing hour, Emmaline looked more and more at ease, although she’d go silent suddenly and her little mouth would turn down. But then Dandy would do something silly, or the old cat Queenie would come rub up against her legs, and the moment would pass.

  To think that the Frenchwoman had killed the poor child’s mother, just because Mrs. Fournier had decided not to let her adopt Emmaline! And she tried to kill the poor girl before taking her own life…like some spoiled child who would rather destroy a toy than let someone else have it.

  Kathleen wasn’t so sure what she felt about the husband. Biddy told her how much he doted on his wife––couldn’t see that she only used her charm to get her own way. And Mrs. Dawson said he’d been shattered by her death. Felt it was his fault for not seeing how obsessed she’d become. Kathleen guessed no one wanted to believe the person they loved was capable of killing.

  It was now nearly seven, and Mr. Nate was finally home, with her mistress sitting next to him at the kitchen table while he finished eating his leftovers. He’d come right downstairs when Kathleen, who’d met him in the front hallway, told him that was where his wife was. He’d asked anxiously if she’d eaten, saying she’d been sick on the ferry. Kathleen thought it was sweet of him to worry but was happy she could tell him his wife had toast and broth right along with Emmaline and that she’d eaten a hearty sandwich with Jamie and Emmaline an hour ago.

  Watching him converse quietly with his wife, Kathleen thought about how rare it was for an educated man like him to feel comfortable sitting in the kitchen to eat. But her mistress didn’t behave like most women did with their servants, so it shouldn’t be surprising the man she chose to marry would be different too. She wondered what their children would be like.

  That’s when she noticed that Tilly and Jamie were peering into a wooden box that Emmaline had pulled from her bag, which reminded her that she needed to find out what the mistress wanted her to do about making up a bed for the girl. Kathleen had overheard Mr. Dawson say that Mr. Livingston, the Silver Strike owner, had agreed that it would be best if Emmaline stayed at the boarding house, at least for tonight. After that, who knew what would be best?

  Suddenly, Jamie held up a photograph and said loudly, “Mrs. Dawson, look at this picture that Emmaline has. It’s identical to the one the Misses Moffet have in their room. Tilly says the same. Is he someone famous?”

  The picture he held up was of some dandified man, all droopy mustache and wild hair, and Kathleen said, “Jamie’s right. The Moffets have a photograph just like this in a silver frame beside their bed. I dust it every day.”

  Emmaline looked puzzled. Then she said, “This is a picture of the man my mother said was my Uncle Jasper. But I think she wasn’t telling me the truth. I think he was my real papa. But he died.”

  “Nate, are we doing the right thing?” Annie asked her husband as they reached the second floor landing on their way up to the attic.

  “Darling, I can’t think of any other reasonable explanation for Tilly, Kathleen, and Jamie to all swear that the photograph of Emmaline’s is identical to the one in the Misses Moffet’s room. You never noticed it?”

  “I don’t know when I’ve ever been in their bedroom. They are always in their workroom when I come up to see them. But Jamie often pops in to say goodnight to them, and of course Tilly and Kathleen are in that room all the time to dust, change the sheets, bring them hot water.”

  She looked at all four of the photographs from Marie’s box, which Emmaline had given them permission to take, including the one of the old woman, who she called Nana Charlotte. Another object they’d taken from the box was the small rag doll Nate was holding. It was a boy doll made out of dingy white flannel and wearing a shirt and overalls with the initials J. M. stitched on it. Emmaline said it had been her “Uncle Jasper’s” when he was a boy.

  J. M. for Jasper Moffet?

  Annie took a deep breath and said, “I guess what I mean is, if we are right, and we go up there and confront Miss Minnie and Miss Millie with our suspicions, that is a bell that can’t be un-rung, as my father would say. Donahue was so adamant about Marie not wanting her daughter to know anything about her real father and his relatives.”

  “Annie, dear, it seems to me, given what just happened downstairs, Emmaline has already figured out part of the secret. But we need, for her sake, to know how the Moffets are going to react, and we won’t know until we talk to them.”

  Nate then gave her a hug. “You are the one who is always telling me how much you respect them. Don’t you think we need to give them a chance?”

  Annie nodded and led the way up the back stairs to the attic, where Miss Minnie and Miss Millie Moffet had their rooms.

  They could see the door to the elderly dressmakers’ workroom was open, and when Annie walked to the door, she saw that Miss Minnie was leaning over a table next to the oil lamp, measuring a piece of the dark green wool for Annie’s dress. Her younger sister was in the rocking chair, sewing a long piece of light green silk onto another piece o
f the green wool.

  She cleared her throat and said, “Miss Minnie, Miss Millie, may Mr. Dawson and I come in to talk to you for a moment? We have something rather delicate to discuss that we don’t really feel comfortable delaying.”

  Miss Minnie jumped up and said, “Of course, please come in. Do sit down here, Mrs. Dawson. We aren’t surprised, but we are so honored…”

  A slight sound from her sister stopped Miss Minnie mid-sentence, and she said, “I am sorry, I know I do run on, and Millicent has reminded me that I should let you say your piece.”

  Sitting down, Annie said, “As you know, Emmaline, Mrs. Fournier’s unfortunate daughter, is staying with us tonight. She brought some photographs with her that we think you need to see.”

  She leaned forward, first holding out a picture of Marie Fournier. “This is Emmaline’s mother. You never met her, did you?”

  Miss Minnie took the picture and said, “No, we never had the pleasure. What a handsome woman. I can certainly see where the girl got her beauty.” She handed the photograph to her sister.

  Annie said, “And here is a photograph of a woman that Emmaline calls Nana Charlotte. I wondered if you recognize her?”

  Miss Minnie took the photograph from Annie, and frowning, she moved over to look at it under the lamp. She then said, her voice rising, “Millicent, look at this, it’s a picture of Aunty Lottie. We called her ‘Aunty’ because even though she was our slave, she seemed like family. See, here she is older, but…” Her face suddenly stilled. “You said the girl, Emmaline, called her Nana. How could that be?”

  Annie said, “This woman you call Aunty Lottie moved out west with Emmaline’s mother in 1863. We believe she is Marie Fournier’s grandmother, who raised her. She died when Emmaline was just a baby.”

  Miss Minnie said quickly, “Mrs. Fournier’s Christian names were?”

  “Marie Charlotte. And she was born in Natchez, Mississippi.”

  “Oh, Millicent, is this possible? Jasper said he heard that Aunty Lottie and little Marie were killed in the war. He must have been mistaken. Oh, why didn’t they come see us if they moved out here? Surely they knew…what is it, Millicent?”

  Miss Millie pointed at the two other photographs Annie now held out, the one of Emmaline’s “Uncle Jasper” and the other of the couple who Annie had at one time speculated were Marie’s mother and her father, Captain Fournier.

  Miss Minnie reached over and took both, saying sharply, “Why did you take our parents’ and our brother’s photographs out of their frames?” Then looking more closely, she suddenly sat down in her chair, and Annie saw the photographs tremble in her hands. “These aren’t ours, are they?”

  “No, they were Marie’s.”

  Nate finally spoke up. “Emmaline believes that this is a photograph of her father, although her mother told her to call him ‘Uncle Jasper.’ She also had this doll, which she said had belonged to him. Do you recognize it?”

  Miss Millie took the doll and smiled wistfully, tracing the initials.

  Miss Minnie nodded. “Yes, that’s Jasper’s. I wondered what happened to it. You said Aunty Lottie and Marie came out west in 1863? Do you know how they lived before that?”

  “I am sorry to say that your brother, as their owner, rented them out to a merchant. He then brought them out to San Francisco and set them up as dressmakers, eventually taking Marie as his mistress.”

  Miss Minnie looked at the photograph of her brother and shook her head. “Oh Jasper, how could you? You promised Mama, faithfully, that you would free them. Aunty deserved so much better from our family. Wretched, wretched boy.”

  Then she turned and grasped her sister’s hands, and they both sat for a long time, tears rolling down their cheeks.

  Finally, taking out a handkerchief, she prosaically blew her nose and said, “Well, well, Millicent, we have a niece. Isn’t that excellent news? No wonder I thought Emmaline looked familiar. Spitting image of you when you were that age. Just that shade of honey to your hair. And already a superior seamstress.”

  Miss Millie said quietly, “What happens now?”

  Nate stirred beside Annie. She knew he was shocked because this was probably the first time he’d heard the younger sister speak. But he said, “A lot of that is up to you two. Mr. Livingston has offered to act as Emmaline’s guardian until her future is settled, and I believe that he would be willing to take that position permanently if that were best for the girl.”

  Miss Minnie said, “That is kind of him. And of course he has much to offer her. But Millicent and I are her blood kin. We would at least like a chance for her to get to know us. See if she would like us to be part of her life. At least through the holidays. Would you mind, Mrs. Dawson, if she stayed in our room? We could pay a little more in board fees.”

  “Good heavens, of course she may stay with you, if she wishes. And don’t even think about the cost. In fact, she will inherit her mother’s dress shop, so whoever becomes her guardian, there should be a steady income to help support her.”

  “Do you think you could bring the child up to us now?” Miss Millie said. “Just for a little while. Let her start to get acquainted with us. Tell that lad Jamie to come as well. Then we can all go down to the parlor for the carols Mrs. Hewitt promised us.”

  “Yes, excellent idea, Millicent,” her sister said.

  Annie said, “I think that is a good idea. Nate, why don’t you get her and Jamie?”

  After he left, she said, “Miss Minnie, Miss Millie. I wanted to tell you before Emmaline comes that we have spoken to a man who knew Marie well, having first met her as a young girl in Natchez. Much of her history we have gotten from him. He is adamant that Marie did not want her daughter to know about her African heritage or that her mother and grandmother had been slaves and her father their master.”

  “No, no. We quite understand, although it is our shame…not hers,” Miss Minnie said. “I promise we will abide by her mother’s wishes. It is the least we can do. We can tell her the truth, which is that we knew and loved her mama when she was a little girl, and we are sad that her papa wasn’t as good to her mama as we would have wished. But there is no need to say anything more.”

  Annie felt sure these two wise women would live up to that promise, and she took a deep breath, finally feeling that she’d done all she could to honor Marie’s wishes for her daughter.

  Looking for something less somber to talk about while they waited for the children, she glanced over at the dress form in the corner. Surprised, she said, “Oh, is that the bodice of my dress? You’ve made such progress.”

  She walked over and marveled at the way the long princess-style bodice had a row of buttons that went from the high neckline all the way to about the waistline, at which point the two front panels cut away and fell to the floor. This would clearly let the lighter green wool underskirt show to advantage.

  She said, “I think I should tell you that you shouldn’t do any of the cutting for the underskirt until you’ve taken my measurements.”

  “Oh, my no, don’t you worry,” Miss Minnie said. “We understand, and we have left ample seam allowance in the bodice so that it will accommodate the changes over the next few months. We purchased enough of both the lighter green and the forest green material to make underskirts that will get you all the way to the child’s birth. Millicent believes that you are already in the third month. Is that correct?”

  Annie felt her mouth open in shock. “But how did you know? I only just got confirmation from my doctor this morning. And yes, according to her, the baby should be due sometime in June.”

  “Annie! The baby? Our baby? In June?”

  Annie turned around and saw Nate standing in the doorway with Emmaline and Jamie at his side. She said ruefully, “Oh dear, I was all set to tell you when you arrived home from the law office this morning. But then…well…events sort of got in the way, and we haven’t had a moment alone since. I can’t think of a better Christmas present, can you?”

  N
ate took her in his arms and whispered, “I thought…but when you didn’t say anything, I thought maybe it was just wishful thinking.”

  “I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure. You aren’t angry, are you?”

  “What do you think, darling? What a merry Christmas this is promising to be.”

  Standing together, their arms around each other, Annie and Nate watched as Miss Minnie welcomed the children into the room, and Miss Millie, her kind old face positively beaming, leaned down and gave Emmaline a warm hug.

  Yes, a very merry Christmas…

  Epilogue

  Sunday morning, December 26, 1880

  “My stars, I go out of town and you two go and solve a murder,” Laura said with a quick snap of the reins, sending the matched bays into a trot.

  “Technically, we didn’t solve anything. We had just begun to realize that Madame Villeneuve was one of the few suspects left with a possible motive and opportunity,” Annie replied, glad to have her husband’s arm protectively around her shoulders as the wagon swung rapidly onto Alum Rock Avenue, which would take them to his parents’ ranch.

  At ten-thirty on a Sunday morning, the main streets of San Jose had been crowded with vehicles of every description, bringing families to church or picking up passengers who’d just disembarked, as they had, from the early morning train from San Francisco, and Nate’s sister Laura drove the wagon with more enthusiasm than skill. However, now that they were out of the city proper, Annie began to relax, knowing from the visit last summer that the horses could practically drive themselves home to their barn and fresh hay.

  “You would have solved it once you got the police to check her alibi. From what Nate just said, sounds like all she had to do was pretend to leave the building, wait a few minutes until her husband was occupied down in receiving, then run back up the stairs to the attic, stopping to turn off the light at the top of the stairs. Then she probably knocked on Mrs. Fournier’s apartment door and asked her to come down the stairs for some reason. Easy enough to hang back and then give her a good push.”

 

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