Dark Mondays

by Kage Baker

  Dick, well used to the little play by now, found himself watching its audience instead. He observed Congressman Gookin’s pallor, and the light of baleful joy on Madame Rigby’s face. Suddenly the full import of what Dick beheld dawned on him. He looked uncertainly from one face to the other, and then at the tableau.

  “Oh!” he exclaimed under his breath. Shaken with disgust, he left the exhibit hall and went downstairs to the bar, where he fortified himself with a whiskey. In doing so, he missed the congressman’s rapid exit, pulling a protesting Evangeline with him.

  * * *

  “Well, well, listen to this,” said Madame Rigby, tipping ash from her cigarette. She read from a sheet of scented letter-paper:

  My very dear Jack, I am scarcely able to express my pleasure at meeting you Saturday, but even less able to express my indignation and outrage. You may well wonder why! In the Automobile I expressed to Papa my intention to invite you to my Birthday Soiree, and to my shock and horror he positively forbid it! We had quite a Row and the Consequence is, I have canceled the entire affair. Which will end up costing a Great Deal I am sure, as the caterer’s deposit cannot be refunded at such short notice, but as it is my fortune anyhow, or will be, I do not care.

  “In any case I shall certainly not let such an Unfair Prejudice as Papa’s stand in the way of my further acquaintance with your gracious self. He is all Affability when there is a Reporter anywhere nearby, but quite another person in Private. Be that as it may, we are not in Ancient Rome and I am free to take the streetcar anywhere I like. It is my intention to visit you at the Exhibition tomorrow, and indeed any day that I am able, when we may continue our Interesting Conversations.

  “Unless—perhaps I am too Forward? But surely you do not think so. Do reply by return post and tell me that you share my Enthusiasm for our continued friendship. Yours Affectionately, Miss Evangeline Gookin.

  Madame Rigby tossed the letter down on her workbench and took a long pull on her cigarette.

  “Her fortune anyhow, is it? ‘Or will be’. Now, I wonder if the family fortune wasn’t settled on the child? How unfortunate for the congressman! Where’s my writing-case, Dick? Jack’s got to write her straight back, just as she asked him to.”

  “You don’t mean he writes, too?” said Dick, fetching her the case.

  “Oh, I reckon I could modify him to do it; but what need, when his own dear mama knows exactly what he’ll say?” said Madame Rigby. She took out a sheet of paper and a reservoir pen of her own design, and paused.

  “Now, let’s see. ‘My dear little girl—’ Just so old Fremont Gookin used to begin! But, no; this is Jacky’s first letter, and he’s a gentleman. He wouldn’t make so bold.” Madame Rigby began to write, reading aloud as she went.

  “ ‘My very dear Miss Gookin; painful as I find the report of your father’s unreasoning dislike, it is difficult to express my corresponding joy at your kind regard and your desire to continue our acquaintance.’ ”

  “Ma’am, don’t you think—” said Dick.

  “Hush, boy. ‘Especially since it will, sadly, be of such a brief duration; for, you know, we will be returning to Paris when the Exhibition closes at the end of the month.’ ”

  “Ah,” said Dick.

  “ ‘So I will be delighted to spend my brief interlude here as much in your fair company as possible. Please do meet me at the Exhibition tomorrow, the Twelfth; I shall linger amongst the cases, disconsolate until you come.’ There!” Madame Rigby signed for Jack with a flourish. “Just you run this out to the post box, Dick.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Dick, smiling uneasily. “You know, it’s a fine joke; but do you think you can keep it up for a month? What if Jack’s exposed for what he really is?”

  “Exposed! Why, let him be,” said Madame Rigby. “Can you think of better publicity for us? It’s the grandest joke that’s ever been played; and the longer we can keep it going, the bigger the story will break. Then we’ll see the money rolling in. I’ve planned this hoax for twenty years, sonny; no matter what may befall, I’ll come out of it a winner. And you’ll stick with me and win too, if you’ve any brains.”

  Dick saw before him the prospect of a trip to Paris, France, with all he might learn from Madame Rigby there, and the mansion on Nob Hill that might one day be his if he became a master mechanic. He swallowed hard and said:

  “It does seem a little hard on Miss Evangeline, is all.”

  Madame Rigby’s eyes glinted. “Hard? Well, she’ll survive it. A few rude shocks are liable to do such a spoiled beauty good.”

  * * *

  The exhibition was a success. It was favorably written up in the Examiner, the Chronicle and the Morning Call. Only the Examiner quoted from Congressman Gookin’s speech at any length, so it is unlikely his efforts did much to sway the forthcoming election.

  But San Franciscans took the streetcar out to Cliff House in great numbers. There they stood in line to file up the stairs to the gallery, and gladly spent their bright nickels to make the acquaintance of Professor Honorius, or to marvel at the detail and perfection of the Excreting Duck. Not a few of the gentler sex shed a tear over the sorrows of the little black-haired doll in midnight blue. Dick worked for two hours each evening after the gallery closed, emptying the machines; he never failed to retrieve at least two buckets’ worth of nickels, which were satisfyingly heavy when rolled up in brown paper and taken to the bank next morning.

  Though Miss Evangeline Gookin visited the exhibition on very nearly a daily basis, she spent no coin, and scarcely looked again at the scenes mecaniques. All her time was spent with Jack, walking round and round the fourth-floor porch outside the exhibition. The sun shone, the salt-gray sea roared and surged around Seal Rock, the booming wind streamed her hair out and brought her the squeals of bathers far down Ocean Beach; it is unlikely Evangeline noticed any of this, so caught up was she in her conversations with Jack.

  She thought him quite the kindest and most thoughtful youth she’d ever met. He never interrupted her, as every other boy of her acquaintance did; never told her that her opinions were silly, never scoffed at her tastes in Literature or Art, never boasted, never grew impatient, never attempted to change the topic under discussion to Sports, and never, never in word or deed suggested anything immoral.

  Indeed, Jack seemed to like nothing more than to listen to her, chastely holding her hand all the while. Evangeline supposed that this was because he was a pure and chivalrous person, though she had to admit to herself that Jack’s behavior might have been a little more ardent, had Madame Rigby not loitered continually in the near distance. But this too was entirely proper; and Madame Rigby played the smiling chaperone on the several occasions they took tea in the ladies’ parlor next to the Gallery Hall. And if Jack’s hands were a little cold, Evangeline never wondered at it; for the porch at Cliff House, exposed as it was to the full force of the wind off the Golden Gate, ranked just above Alaska in January on any list of the world’s chilliest places to court a lover.

  It must be admitted that sometimes Evangeline found Jack’s conversation a little vague and absent-minded. His letters to her (for they wrote each other often) were another matter, however. He wrote in a witty, dashing style, and used the courtliest expressions of love she had ever heard. Had Evangeline known that their source and origin was a bundle of yellowed deception written by Congressman Gookin himself, harbored in the bottom of Madame Rigby’s trunk these twenty years, she would have recoiled in horror; but she didn’t know, and so continued to treasure Jack’s correspondence.

  The closing day of the exhibition drew inexorably nearer. If Jack’s letters and manner remained serene, Evangeline was increasingly wretched to contemplate that she might shortly be deprived of his company forever.

  * * *

  “Whew! I want a brandy,” said Madame Rigby, throwing down her hat and gloves. “I’d forgotten how cold the wind blows out there. Dick, take Jack to the water closet; he drank three cups of tea today. I wonder he hasn
’t leaked.”

  Dick rose, shuddering, and guided Jack to the lavatory. Fortunately, he was not obliged to assist Jack further at this point; as he slouched in the doorway, he blessed his predecessor, the nameless fellow from the Polytechnic who had worked out all Jack’s more detailed masculine commands. One terse phrase was all that was required for Jack to make the necessary adjustments to his trousers before draining off approximately twenty-four ounces of stale tea, after which he buttoned himself once more and turned with a beaming face to receive his next order. Taking Jack by the shoulder, Dick walked him to his cabinet and thrust the key up his nose before shutting him away for the night.

  “Lordy! Here’s another letter from Miss Evangeline,” said Madame Rigby. “Well, well! Are these tear-stains I see? Jack, you rogue, what have you been up to?”

  She poured herself a brandy and lit another cigarette before settling down to read the latest letter. Dick sat down wearily and unwrapped a ham sandwich bought from a pushcart vendor, for he had yet to dine. He was not to enjoy his meal in peace, however. Madame Rigby perused but a few lines before she leaped to her feet and began to pace as she read, puffing out furious clouds of smoke.

  “Listen to this!” she said, from the corner of her mouth. “ ‘Oh, my Beloved! You may well wonder at my Tears, or maybe the fact that my writing is so Tremulous. I am a Prisoner in my Own Room! You shall not wonder long, for here is the whole Dreadful Truth!

  “ ‘Papa has found one of your Letters and for Heaven’s Sake I thought he was going to Drop Down Dead right there on the Floor from Apoplexy! Never have I heard Such Language! He has called you all kinds of Dreadful Things I will not repeat, and (Which is Worse to my Way of Thinking) your dear Mother also.

  “ ‘I am Forbidden to see or speak to you Ever Again!!! And am presently Locked In on the Third Floor!!!!

  “ ‘Yet, Despair Not, for the man doesn’t live who can keep Evangeline Gookin from her True Love. Hear me Patiently a Little While, for I think I see a Way we may yet be Happy.

  “ ‘I am Certain the Servants will let me out To-Morrow whilst Papa goes to his Odious Campaign Meeting, for they all Detest him as much as I do, especially Daisy, whom he has Treated in a Beastly Manner I will not soil my pen with Describing. And even were they not to be bribed, what Papa does not know is that one can quite Easily climb from my Window to the little Porch above the Breakfast Room and so down the Drainpipe to the Garden, and then you know the Streetcar Tracks run right past the Corner.

  “ ‘But all of this Availeth us Not but to a Temporary Reunion, unless your Passion is the Equal of mine. Darling, I really think we must Elope. You surely have seen plenty of folks do it over in France where people are less Cold-Blooded than Over Here and I bet you would have no trouble making the Arrangements. And then, what Bliss & Ecstasy awaits us!!

  “ ‘Though I hope you will not come to Smoke or Drink, Jack, for I find those to be Intolerable vices. Nor go to the races. Nor take up with a lot of Objectionable fellows and stay out late much. And I do expect you will Permit me to Manage the Household Accounts. I feel my poor Mama’s Health was Considerably Wrecked by Quarreling and I don’t much think you ought to oppose a dear and loving Wife who only seeks your Happiness.

  “ ‘Lest you have any Fearful Considerations—you know I am of Age, and that my late Mama’s whole Fortune was settled on me to inherit at my Marriage. So I am sure Papa Dreads any such Happy Day for me on account of he is Heavily in Debt and after the way he Carried On just now I am Determined to cut him off without one Red Cent and serve him right.

  “ ‘Daisy is waiting to take this down to the Post Office so it goes right out. She always collects the mail too so she will Intercept your Reply and bring it right up. Write back Immediately, Jack Dearest, and tell me our Hearts will soon Beat as One. Your own adoring Evangeline Rigby (or so I fondly anticipate).’ ”

  Dick sat appalled, his sandwich half-eaten, as Madame Rigby finished the letter and folded it carefully. Her eyes glowed with a hellish light. She dropped the end of her cigarette, stepped on it, and took a hearty drink of brandy. Setting the glass down, she said:

  “Dick, I want you to go over to the Palace right now, and reserve a suite of rooms for tomorrow night. Here’s a pair of twenty-dollar gold pieces. Get the best you can.”

  “Good God!” cried Dick. “You can’t mean to—”

  “Why, Dick, whatever do you take me for?” said Madame Rigby. “Weren’t you listening to that poor child’s letter? She’s in deadly peril! When she’s an heiress, and her wicked father’s in debt? I imagine he’s planning her destruction even now. You don’t know him as I do! We must convey her to safety, and she can’t come here; it wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Forgive me,” said Dick, abashed. He pocketed the money and ran out, and an hour later had secured a fine suite of rooms for the following evening.

  Madame Rigby was not there when he returned. Suffused with feelings of dread, he peered into Jack’s cabinet. Jack opened his eyes and looked at him, as though inquiringly. Dick heard the door opening behind him, and, closing the cabinet with an air of guilt, turned to see Madame Rigby entering the room.

  “Where have you been?” said Dick.

  “Mailing a letter,” she replied. “Did you do as I told you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Dick. He dug in his pocket and found the receipt, which he handed to her. Madame Rigby took it eagerly, studied it a moment, and then tucked it away in her reticule.

  “Now, Dick,” she said, “I’m going to be busy all day tomorrow, so you’ll have to mind the exhibition yourself. See that you telephone the moving men and engage a van for Monday.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Dick. “Shall I take Jack with me tomorrow?”

  “No,” said Madame Rigby.

  This filled Dick with suspicions so horrible he was scarcely able to name them even to himself; how much less, then, was he able to utter them to the composed and masterful woman who stood before him?

  Long he lay awake that night in shameful torments, before falling into uneasy slumbers full of dreams of Evangeline: as a dainty and gossamer-winged butterfly trapped in the net of a squat spider, or as a tiny, jointed doll waltzing round and round in the arms of Professor Honorius, or bound in a straitjacket as she screamed, and screamed again without cease.

  During the long streetcar ride the next morning, Dick was so dogged by the fantastic horrors of the previous night that he felt obliged to go straight to the bar, upon his arrival at Cliff House, and fortify himself with a stiff drink.

  The whiskey braced him enough to enable him to open the exhibition for the day, but did not quiet his misgivings. As soon as the doors had been opened and visitors were filing through, Dick went back down to the bar and had another whiskey, and then another. By noon, the accumulated effects of four whiskies with a breakfast of stale pretzels had reduced Dick to a sorry condition indeed.

  Unable to bear his apprehension any longer, Dick then pulled out a memorandum book and, tearing out its blank back pages, wrote in pencil a long and somewhat incoherent letter. In it he revealed as much as he understood of Madame Rigby’s melancholy history, as well as the truth of Jack’s extraordinary origins, in some detail. He ended with the earnest assurance that he disclosed these things only to spare Evangeline greater shock and humiliation.

  Having acquired an envelope from the proprietor of the souvenir stand, Dick ventured out and caught a streetcar, and spent an unsteady eternity rattling across town. At last he spotted the Palace Hotel and leaped off in mid-block, under the nose of an affronted draft horse. Leaving chaos in his wake, he lurched into the vast hotel lobby and slid the envelope over the desk, with a slurred request that it might be delivered to suite 507, when the party for whom it had been reserved should check in.

  Dick meant to return then to his duties at Cliff House. He may have done so; he certainly got as far as the bar there, but his next clear memory was of being at Sutro’s Baths, struggling into a woolen bathing cos
tume that seemed to have been made for a one-legged man. The clearest memory after that was of being held upright in an ice-cold shower bath by a pair of muscular attendants.

  At some point after that Dick found himself on the floor of the workshop, and made his way on hands and knees to the far wall. There he meant to pull down the window-drapes to serve as blankets, but somehow failed to do so. He attempted to get Jack to help him, but the doors of the cabinet were standing ajar; nothing was in there but the long, brass key, which seemed to have fallen to the floor and been overlooked. Dick put the key in his pocket and, weeping for the sorrow and the pity of it all, curled up and went to sleep.

  * * *

  “Well! You’re some pretty picture, aren’t you?” said a voice, high-up and distant and yet shockingly loud. Dick groaned and opened his eyes. He was greeted by the spectacle of a giantess looming above him, arms akimbo, smiling widely.

  He lay there, stupefied, until Madame Rigby flung open the drapes and let in the light of broad noon. He flung up an arm to shield himself from its poisonous brilliance, and as he did so realized that he had failed to close down the exhibition, or to empty the coin boxes either, on the previous night.

  “Oh, ma’am—I’m so awfully sorry—It won’t ever happen again!” he said.

  “Why, that’s all right,” said Madame Rigby, lighting a cigarette. “By rights I ought to fire you, but I’m feeling the most extraordinary peace today. Take your time getting up, Dick; no need to hurry. We don’t sail until this afternoon.”

  Dick sat up. As he did so a newsboy screamed out, very nearly under the window:

  “EXTRA! Congressman Gookin dead! Fremont T. Gookin suicide suspected!”

  “What?” said Dick, as the floor seemed to roll like the breakers at Ocean Beach. Madame Rigby laughed quietly.