Doves Migration

by Linda Daly

  Speaking softly, he interrupted her. “Miranda dear, you of all people know the great shame I bare in my heart having my grandson commit such heinous acts. Surely I am in no position to judge another.”

  Nodding, understanding for the first time how painful this had been for him, knowing what Tad had done, she relived the painful childhood memories that haunted her. As she spoke of Lucas’ infidelities and of her mother’s drinking to mask her pain, Miranda was grateful that Alfred showed no reaction of shock or disgust while listening intently to her every word. When she had recalled the accidental shooting of her half-brother Joseph, he stopped her and asked, “Our Elise shot him?”

  Realizing by his comment that Alfred had truly adopted all of them in his heart as members of his family—just as he had said earlier—she smiled fondly at him and nodded.

  “So now perhaps you can understand why position and power hold little meaning to me. Was it able to save my mother from living a nightmarish existence at the hands of my father’s betrayal?”

  Softly he replied, “It did not indeed. In truth, I have often wondered what it was that kept you aloof, and now hearing your reasons, I must say you surprise me.”

  “Surprise? Why is that?”

  “From the first day we met I came to realize you were the quintessence of a true belle of the south—shy, well versed in proper social refinement. Yet never had I surmised that beneath your beauty and charm lay the inner strength and determination of a lioness. What you have been able to accomplish with the Underground Railroad, along with aiding Mr. O’Flaherty is astonishing.”

  “Now it is you who has surprised me. Considering on both accounts I have managed to betray the trust of two men who meant the most to me by being dishonest and conniving. Two very unflattering characteristics for a woman to possess, and for both I am ashamed.”

  “Nonsense! I won’t stand for hearing such rubbish,” Alfred said indignantly. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You reacted from sheer instinct on both accounts for the betterment of others, which shows great integrity and conviction. As I recall, didn’t you try only moments ago to convince a rather stubborn man the importance of such fine attributes?”

  Blushing again, realizing he had heard nearly their entire conversation she asked, “How do you know that? Was it you we heard?”

  Pointing to a screened vent next to the fireplace Alfred said, “What you heard was an old man trying to eavesdrop, and stumbling against the poker. That vent leads directly to the basement.”

  “I’m so embarrassed,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor to avoid eye contact with him.

  “No more than I. Please forgive me for invading on your privacy. However, I had to know if you were indeed serious in going to San Francisco with Mr. O’Flaherty.”

  “Yes, I am. Even though I’m certain he will try to prevent it.”

  Nodding, he said, “Yes I should imagine he will. Are you certain that this is what you want?”

  Sheepishly, she nodded. “I love him and I know he feels the same. It’s just his foolish pride that stands in our way.”

  “Ah yes. Pig-headed I think you called him.”

  “Oh dear, you really did hear everything didn’t you?”

  “Not everything, that’s why I had to get closer to the vent and clumsily knocked into the poker.”

  “Judging from the look on your face, I take it you don’t approve?” Miranda asked, meekly.

  “Before I respond, will you indulge an old man to pry into your affairs and ask a few questions?”

  “You’re not an old man and you certainly have every right to pry. However, I must warn you, nothing you can say will change my mind,” she replied stubbornly.

  Raising his hand, he smiled wearily. “I wouldn’t dream of trying. I was just wondering what you intend to do once you arrive in San Francisco? Presuming Mr. O’Flaherty permits you to come with him, that is. And then, there is the matter of Lucas. Have you given any thought to how this will affect him?”

  Somberly she looked up at him, and took a deep breath. “Mr. Honeycutt, I’ve thought of little else. Father will be devastated. What I’m relying on is that he risked everything he held dear for such desires, having them once himself, and in time he will come to understand I had to do the same. I intend to write him a letter and have it posted the day I leave, explaining my love and longing to be with Gilbert. As for Gilbert … Well in truth, this may prove to be more difficult than Father accepting my decision. He can be so prideful and stubborn, as you’ve heard.” Not waiting for a response, she added hastily. “What I intend to do is point out that the officials are looking for a man, not a husband and wife.”

  “Ah I see. So you intend to pose as his spouse.”

  “Yes. I’ve booked passage for two under the name of Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Hourigan.”

  Rubbing his brow, looking at her with genuine concern he said, “Traveling across country will be difficult enough. How do you intend to mange keeping others from suspecting that you are not truly man and wife if Mr. O’Flaherty does not agree to this arrangement?”

  “Not every detail has been worked out, but I can assure you Gilbert is no fool. Surely, he will see that he has no other choice, or risk being caught and brought up on charges.”

  Shaking his head, Alfred said, “My dear, do you really believe deceiving him in such a manner is wise? No man, especially one as your Mr. O’Flaherty, will welcome being manipulated in such a manner. You hardly know this man. What if he gets to San Francisco and leaves you? Then what? Your reputation will be ruined, not to mention the fact you will be in a strange place with no one there to protect you.”

  Looking at him with pleading eyes, she said, “You heard him. He does not believe he is good enough for me. What other choice do I have but to force him to take me along? By the time we reach San Francisco, I should be able to persuade him this was the best for both of us. Once he knows how much I love him, surely he will forgive my deceit.”

  “There must be a better way.” Seeing Miranda ready to argue with him, he raised his hand as if to silence any of her arguments. “Dearest, before you begin arguing with me, please indulge an old man an opportunity to help. Surely, between the two of us, we should be able to work out a more suitable plan. I owe this much to you and your father, not to mention Mr. O’Flaherty.”

  “Then should I assume you approve?”

  “No. I did not say that, my dear. However, I do understand the love you feel for this man. All I hope and pray is that he is worthy of such love.”

  For the better part of an hour, Miranda, sitting in the chair next to Alfred, listened as he discussed other possibilities for the trip west. While she still feared Gilbert’s safety was in jeopardy, she took solace in trusting his and her fate in this man she loved as a father.

  Fifteen

  No Turning Back

  Exhausted from the evening’s events, Miranda, with a heavy heart, slowly tiptoed up the stairs to the second floor of the Honeycutt mansion. Although she was grateful Alfred had offered to assist her traveling to San Francisco, she knew he did not approve. How could he? When I don’t either! No woman should ever throw herself at a man as I’m intending to do. It’s degrading. Have you no shame? She chastised herself, pausing to stare at the vacant room once occupied by Tad.

  Without warning, memories flooded her mind of the tenderness she and Tad had once shared. Unable to move from where she stood, stinging tears welled up in her eyes as she recalled the deep pain Tad had caused her by his deceit. Such betrayal Miranda knew she would never be able to forgive.

  As a tear streamed down her cheek, Miranda began to question her motives to leave the life she had made for herself in New York to run off with a man she barely knew. Was it possible she had deluded herself into believing she was in love with Gilbert simply to avenge the deep-seeded pain Tad had caused her? Stunned by such a revelation, she immediately rushed up the remaining steps to the privacy of her own room. Dear God, am I capable of such treac
hery? Cupping her head in her hands, leaning on the wooden door of her bedchamber, she softly wept.

  Hearing a cough from the other side of the room, she trembled. “Miss Miranda, it’s me. Please don’t fret none.”

  Squinting across the dimly-lit room, Miranda was able to make out the

  silhouette of a man rising from a chair and she hastily wiped her tears. “Oh Montgomery, you startled me!” she whispered. “With all that has gone on this evening, I completely forgot we were too meet. How long have you been waiting …” Her voice trailed off as she increased the flame of her kerosene lamp. “Why it must have been hours. I’m so sorry …” She added apologetically.

  “I was startin’ to worry some. Mr. Gilbert didn’t hurt you now, did he?” “No. Of course not,” she answered quickly, wondering why he would think such a thing and then realizing he had seen her cry.

  Miranda smiled warmly at him. “How kind of you to be concerned about my well being Montgomery. But no need. It’s been a long day and I’m a bit out of sorts, is all. Especially, since I’ve just found out Mr. Honeycutt …” Miranda’s voice trailed off realizing it must have been Montgomery who had informed Alfred that she had befriended Gilbert and was harboring him. She quickly added. “How foolish of me to forget the bond between a servant and his master, or in this case employee and employer.”

  The servant, clearly taken off guard, sheepishly glanced down to avoid eye contact with her, not saying a word. Realizing his actions confirmed her suspicions, she hastily added, reassuringly. “It’s alright Montgomery. I’m not angry with you. It just would have been easier if I had known …” Then finding her words amusing, she nervously chuckled. “Who am I fooling? I never intended for Mr. Honeycutt to know, and if I had, I would have told him myself.”

  “Miss Miranda, I didn’t mean to deceive you … but, both Mr. James and Mr. Alfred made me promise not to tell you.”

  Shocked hearing James also was in on this, she whispered, “Mr. James …”

  Seeing the concerned look in the servant’s eyes, Miranda cleverly changed her tone so as not to let on that he had mistakenly broken a confidence.

  “Mr. James and Mr. Honeycutt have had my best interest at heart all along and I’m truly grateful for all of your help. Especially yours, Montgomery. This must have been extremely difficult for you.”

  “No trouble at all, miss. I sure am glad the cat’s out of the bag though.”

  Not having heard that expression in some time, she smiled fondly at Montgomery, reminiscing how Chester, her former slave, used to say the same thing.

  “Yes … Well it is getting late. Where is that passageway you were speaking of earlier Montgomery?”

  “Right here, miss,” he said eagerly, walking only a few steps to the corner of the room next to her dry sink and wardrobe. Judging by the tone of his voice and mannerisms, Miranda knew she had been successful in concealing he had spoken out of turn.

  Before she had time to figure out why James Sterling would benefit from keeping the truth from her, Miranda’s attention was drawn to Montgomery. There before her, she observed the servant lean over slightly and with great ease slid what she had thought to be a wall behind the wardrobe.

  “Oh my! Why, I had no idea,” she gasped. Walking closer to the opening in shock, she asked, “Now am I to understand you correctly. Didn’t you say that every bedchamber is equipped with … with …” Not knowing what exactly to call such a devise, she motioned to the opening. “One of these things?”

  Nodding his head, he smiled. “Yes, miss. Every bedchamber has a dumbwaiter. Come step inside and see for yourself.”

  Hesitantly, Miranda walked closer to the passageway and saw in the center of a small area what looked to be a three-sided box made of metal suspended in mid-air. The platform, sides, and back were connected to two ropes on either side with a large pulley. Eager to demonstrate, Montgomery gently tugged on one of the ropes.

  “See, this is how you go down. And if you want to go up, all you do is pull on this cord.’

  Fascinated, and not believing she had no knowledge of it until now, she looked about the small room and noticed to the right of the metal platform what looked to be a narrow tunnel.

  “Ah I see … and where does that go?” Miranda asked.

  “Why that goes to Mr. Tad’s old room, and if you head the other way, all the way down to the last chute, that takes you to Mrs. Honeycutt’s room.”

  Confused and intrigued at the same time, she glanced from where she imagined the tunnel ran in her room and then back into the dark opening.

  “But why can’t I see that tunnel from my room? There are windows right there …” Her voice trailed off, looking back inside her room again. Then as if answering her own question, she smiled, whispering to herself, “The window seat! In all the rooms, a seat stretches across the wall to mask the tunnel. How ingenious.”

  “Mighty easy on the help too. Years past, before there were dinner parties every night, the Missus and Mr. Alfred would have their meals brought up to them. Rather than having to cart their trays up and down the stairs, the maids used this here dumbwaiter instead. It goes directly into the kitchen or can go to the cellar too.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t imagine anyone could walk, let alone carry a tray in such a small area.”

  “Oh there’s plenty of room. Come closer and see for yourself.” Pointing at the darkened alleyway, Miranda noticed that from where she stood, no floor could be seen. Confused, she looked at Montgomery hoping for an explanation.

  “The floor of the passageway is down a few feet, right over Master Alfred’s library and the dinning room.”

  Closing her eyes, Miranda visualized the rooms below her and realized that the ceilings of those two rooms had lowered panels along the outer perimeters, which she had always thought was for decorative effects. Never had she realized they were multi-functional. Directing her attention back to the dumbwaiter, she asked, “Is this devise strong enough to hold the two of us?”

  “Nah.” Montgomery shook his head. “But if you like, I can pull on this here rope and you can take a ride for yourself and I’ll come down right quick.”

  Nodding, Miranda stepped inside the iron chute, holding tightly to the metal rails just below the large pulley and ropes.

  “Now don’t be moving about none, and keep your head still, for there ain’t no light down the hall so it’s going to get mighty dark,” Montgomery warned. “The kitchen doorway stays open some so as you pass by you’ll see a little light, but when you reach the basement you will have to step out and open the door to the cellar yourself. Can you do that, Miss Miranda?”

  She nodded, then asked, “Where will the door to the basement be exactly?”

  Listening carefully, Montgomery gave her directions, like that of a parent to a child and she smiled, never seeing this side of him before.

  “You can’t miss it. Just as soon as you step off the platform, feel to the left and pull on the handle. The door will open right quick—it’s good and oiled so as not to stick. Be sure to send the dumbwaiter back up and I’ll meet you down there in a few minutes.” Looking about the room, he lifted his finger as a gesture to wait for a second. Judging by the look on his face Miranda assumed he found what he was searching for and left for a few moments, returning with an unlit brass hurricane lamp.

  “Here miss, you take this here candle and be real careful now.” Miranda took the candleholder in hand while Montgomery searched inside his pocket for matches. Once the light was lit and the glass dome securely replaced in the holder, he looked anxiously at her. “You ready?”

  Taking a deep breath, Miranda nodded and smiled nervously at Montgomery as she watched him pull gently on rope to her right. With every pull, the platform glided downward with ease. The further she descended, the darker it became and she was grateful Montgomery had thought to send her along with a light. Within a few moments she passed the small opening which she assumed was the kitchen. Nervously she looked at the candle’s
reflection that flickered as an eerie glow against the wooden tunnel leading to the basement. Being careful not to move as Montgomery had warned, Miranda became anxious wondering how much longer this would take. Luckily within moments the platform came to a halt and holding the candle firmly in one hand, Miranda nervously stepped out of the dumbwaiter onto the basement floor. Then spotting the handle precisely where Montgomery had said it would be, she opened the door with ease.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Miranda turned back and began pulling the rope to send the platform back where it had originated. Just as before, the dumbwaiter moved stealth-like with ease. Realizing that Montgomery was now pulling on the rope from his end, Miranda stepped away from where she stood and looked about the cellar. Rows of canned fruit and vegetables lined wooden shelves, with bushel baskets of potatoes and carrots stacked neatly against the other walls. Turning to face the other opening, she realized the door was locked from the inside.

  Cautiously walking forward, she unlatched the hook from its eyehole and gently opened the door. Much to surprise, she heard voices, tiptoed out of the cellar, and gasped at hearing Alfred’s voice.

  “Be reasonable, Mr. O’Flaherty. Surely, a man of your keen perception can see I mean you no harm. All I am proposing is a business deal. Nothing more.”

  “Suggesting I marry Miranda ain’t no business deal! Beggin’ yer pardon, sir. But why are you so hell bent on getting’ rid of her, too? She ain’t done you no harm. She was just trying to mend me broken bones is all, which yer grandson and that no count friend of his caused, I might be addin’.”

  “You misunderstand me, Mr. O’Flaherty. I have no desire to see Miranda leave this home. On the contrary, nothing would please me more to see her and Tad one day wed, yet that seems highly unlikely under the circumstances.”

  Unable to believe what she was hearing, Miranda’s hands began to tremble while she inched her way closer, anxious to hear Gilbert’s reply.

  “And what circumstances would that be, sir?”