Tough Prospect

by Laura Strickland

  “So you prefer to discuss it here? Your decision. I understand you’ve been seeing my wife.”

  “No. That is—please come inside.”

  Mitch followed the young man into a foyer that, for all its grand proportions, had a barren feel to it. The young man shot him an uneasy look before he said, “We’ll go into the library where we won’t be disturbed.”

  For a library, the room boasted very few books. It contained merely a large desk, a couple of chairs, a sideboard, and bookcases, most of them bare. Trask crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a drink.

  “Will you join me?”

  Mitch shook his head. “Too early in the day for me. Besides, I’d like to keep my head clear for this.”

  “This?”

  “Our conversation. It’s overdue, don’t you think?”

  Trask gulped amber liquid from his glass and drew himself up. “Mr. Carter, nothing untoward has happened between your wife and me.”

  “But you’d like it if something ‘untoward’ did happen.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Just look at her; what man wouldn’t? She’s the loveliest woman I’ve ever seen.”

  “She is very lovely,” Trask agreed carefully. “But she and I are just friends.”

  “You’ve been meeting her on the sly.”

  “I haven’t. We do meet in the course of our charity work, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Charity work.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How long have you been involved in this charitable enterprise?”

  “Not long. A few months.”

  “You mean, a couple weeks.” Mitch smiled again. “Don’t try to mislead me, Mr. Trask. I have sources. Information.”

  Thoughts—and panic—raced through Trask’s blue eyes. “Very well. If you want the truth, Tessa and I were well acquainted before she married you. We did—and still do—hold one another in high esteem.”

  “I see.”

  “I daresay I would have asked her to marry me, had I been in a position to propose.”

  Mitch’s heart sank. “You were not in such a position?”

  “No, unfortunately. A family situation that included financial constraints.”

  “I see.” Mitch glanced around the room again. “Whatever your connection with my wife—your former connection—I’m here to tell you it needs to end.”

  Trask bristled. “You can’t tell her whom she may or may not see.”

  “I’m not telling her. I’m telling you.”

  “You want me to stop seeing her? And what if she finds out it’s at your request? She’ll hate you forever.”

  Too true, probably. But Mitch said, “She’ll get over her upset. Women always do. I can offer her a good life, after all. Far better than you can offer.”

  Trask sneered; his lip actually curled up. “You can offer her money and trappings. None of that will win Tessa. And no trappings can disguise what you are.”

  “What am I?”

  “A street tough. A bully. You badger, coerce, and lean on people to get your way.”

  “Quite true. Just like I’m leaning on you now.”

  Trask’s eyes widened. “Are you threatening me?”

  “If that’s how you want to interpret my visit. Me, I’d call it a friendly warning. Break off your association with my wife, Trask. End it without letting her know why.”

  “And if I won’t?”

  “I don’t think you’ll like the consequences.”

  “You suppose you can attack me with impunity?”

  “Certainly not. There are laws in this city to protect people from vicious attack. There are also any number of dark streets and alleys, and eyes to tell me where you walk, and when.”

  “I see.”

  “Not a threat by any means, just an advisement.”

  Trask thought about it. His face grew tight. “What reason can I possibly give Tessa for breaking off our friendship?”

  “Think of something. Oh, and perhaps you’d like a little spending money, just something for essentials.” Mitch dug into his pocket and deposited a wad of money on the side table.

  Trask flushed even deeper red. “You’re buying me off?”

  “Certainly.”

  “How dare you assume I can be bought?”

  “There are very few men who can’t be. Look at it this way, Trask—you get to keep your skin intact and you get to play the part of the upper-crust dandy a while longer.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are. You just can’t see it. Trust me, you don’t want to be involved with another man’s wife. Especially mine.”

  Trask looked at the money and at Mitch once again. For an instant Mitch thought Trask would snatch up the pile and toss it back in his face. But he let it lie.

  “I’ll see myself out, shall I?” Mitch moved to the library door. When he looked back, Trask hadn’t stirred so much as a muscle.

  ****

  “Attention, everyone. The carriages have arrived, and we are ready to embark,” Mr. Ellison called busily.

  “Not yet,” Tessa said under her breath. She glanced once more at the entrance of the Meadows Club, hoping to see Richard entering. She couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t yet arrived.

  “What is it?” Lily Michaels leaned over and whispered.

  “Richard.”

  “Your lover?”

  “He hasn’t arrived, and we’re nearly ready to leave.”

  “Today,” Mr. Ellison announced, “we are planning a raid on Carter’s Home for Boys.”

  That snagged all Tessa’s attention. She stared at Mr. Ellison in dismay. He looked back at her.

  “This, Mrs. Carter, should be of particular interest to you.”

  “Yes,” she agreed faintly while her heart sank. She’d had no clear idea the place still operated.

  “It is,” Mr. Ellison went on, “one of the most notorious and worst-run orphanages in the city. We may have difficulty persuading them to let us in. Sergeant Fagan is, unfortunately, not available today. But fortunately Mrs. Michaels has put us in touch with her good friend Officer Kelly, who is meeting us there and may be of assistance. If we do not want to keep him waiting unnecessarily, we must leave at once.”

  “Where can Richard be?” Tessa asked Lily.

  “Perhaps he was unavoidably detained. Here.” Lily tucked Tessa’s arm into hers. “We shall go together.”

  Tessa’s first sight of Carter’s Home for Boys, located on lower Tupper, nearly made her forget Richard. Its cold edifice—made of gray block stone—was not improved by the trails of rust running down from the barred windows, like tears.

  Mitch had lived here. Mitch had grown up here from an infant, taken the place’s name for his own.

  Suddenly, Tessa could feel her heart breaking; she wanted to weep.

  Officer Kelly, as reassuringly big, strapping, and human-appearing as the last time Tessa saw him, stood at the gate. Lily Michaels stepped from the carriage and hurried up to him.

  “Patrick, how are you? And how is Rose doing?”

  Before Kelly could answer, Lily turned to Tessa, still at her side and said, “You remember Rose, Patrick’s wife? Recently she was abducted from her own front step and held for a short time on the waterfront. She was soon released, not much harmed but terribly frightened. But, Pat, how is she recovering from the ordeal?”

  “She remains shaken, Lily. I have left her now with friends, including Ginny Landry. Rose cannot stand to be alone. Given her past history of imprisonment and abuse, it was perhaps the worst thing that might have befallen her.”

  “Are there any suspects?”

  “Several suspects, yes, but as yet no solid proof. She was snatched from behind while entering the house and immediately blindfolded, you understand. She could give us little information. But I have all the members of the Irish Squad working on it.” Something glinted in the automaton’s eyes. “We will find the miscreants.”

  “She saw no on
e?”

  “No, unfortunately. She had just returned from shopping with parcels in her hands and had no chance to turn before being subdued. However, she did hear voices.”

  “How terrifying,” Tessa murmured, and the automaton switched his bright gaze to her face.

  “Pat, you remember my friend Mrs. Carter?” Lily asked.

  “Of course. Yes, Mrs. Carter, my wife Rose was quite terrified by her unfortunate experience. I have done my best to reassure her. But she has a past that lends her to fear that she may be snatched again.”

  Tessa murmured, “Everyone should feel safe in her own home.”

  “I tend to agree.” Pat Kelly glanced behind at the ugly orphanage. “I doubt, however, any of the residents of this house feel particularly safe. This may be a distressing visit, ladies. Are you prepared?”

  Was she? Tessa could only wonder.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tessa let herself into the front hallway of the house on Prospect Avenue and stood for a moment with her eyes closed, seeking a measure of composure. The place seemed blessedly quiet after what she’d experienced at Carter’s, and smelled clean and fresh.

  The sights, sounds, and smells of the orphanage returned to her again in a staggering wave. How could anyone endure living there a single day?

  How had her husband endured?

  That place, that awful place.

  Patrick Kelly had fought to get them in, using a combination of unflappable insistence and reference to the law. Unlike Officer Fagan, who’d waited at the outer door, he’d shepherded them around the institution, and she’d been very glad for his presence.

  Grim, cold, and terrifying…Tessa did not have words enough to condemn Carter’s. It should be burned to the ground, except she suspected Hell might not burn.

  At parting, Mr. Ellison, no doubt sensing how shaken they all were, had said to them, “I know we have witnessed some terrible things today. But remember that kindness is a strength and that kind people, working together, can effect miraculous change.”

  For some reason those words stuck with Tessa, echoing inside her head along with the whimpers and sobs.

  The mechanical maid rolled out into the hallway; Tessa sought to pull herself together.

  “Doris, is my husband at home?”

  “Yes, madam, he is in the parlor.”

  How was she going to face him? How, knowing what he’d endured. It could not fail to change the way she saw him, now that she knew…

  “Madam, this arrived for you earlier.”

  Doris held out a folded message, which Tessa accepted by reflex. “Oh? Thank you.”

  “Will you join Mr. Carter in the parlor, madam? Would you like supper?”

  “I couldn’t possibly eat anything.”

  The maid trundled out. Tessa unfolded the note and read.

  Her knees wobbled, and she nearly fell.

  From Richard. He said he’d rethought their association and found there was no future in it. He no longer planned to attend the Meadows Club meetings and believed they should not see each other again.

  She backed to the bench against one side of the hall and lowered herself onto it, hands trembling. A succession of emotions tore through her—betrayal, anger, pain. How could he do this to her when they’d had an agreement? When she’d been ready to give herself to him?

  Good thing she hadn’t, if he found it so easy to abandon her this way.

  The emotions, on top of all she’d experienced at Carter’s, nearly shattered her. Anger let her blink the tears from her eyes, get up, and walk into the parlor.

  ****

  Mitch glanced up from his newspaper when his wife came into the room. The little clockwork dog, which had been sitting near his feet—for company, he’d almost have said—got up and went to her, its tail wagging madly.

  For the first time since he’d brought it to her, Tessa ignored it.

  Instead she stared at Mitch, pale as milk, her lips trembling.

  “What is it?” He half started up. “What’s happened?”

  She didn’t answer. His gaze fell to the paper crumpled in her fingers.

  “Is it your mother? She’s unwell?”

  “No. It’s not Mother. It’s…nothing.” She shoved the paper into the pocket of her dress.

  “Something’s upset you.”

  Her eyes looked impossibly green in her white face. “We—we raided Carter’s today. Oh, Mitch, how did you ever bear it? That terrible place! I can’t even imagine…”

  He felt the blood rush from his head, which left him dizzy on his feet. “You went there? By God! What possessed you?”

  “Mr. Ellison arranged it. He selected it from a list of the city’s worst offenders. He wanted us to—to—”

  She didn’t finish the thought, and Mitch couldn’t finish it for her. His throat grew far too tight.

  Carter’s. He visited the place regularly in his nightmares but wouldn’t send his worst enemy there, to say nothing of the woman he’d married.

  He wondered if it had changed since old Fink left, since Mitch had escaped and worked like a boy possessed to buy his companions free.

  Judging by Tessa’s expression, it hadn’t improved much.

  Bitterly he said, “Ellison must be a madman, taking you there.”

  “No, he’s very kind, really—a kindly man. He says kindness is a strength, a sort of power. He merely wishes to expose these terrible places for what they are.”

  “The underbelly of the beast, yes. So you said before. Well, he certainly went for an ugly beast this time.”

  She said nothing; her lips trembled.

  “Here, sit down before you fall. Mind the dog.” Taking Tessa’s arm, Mitch steered her to the sofa and eased her down. “Let me get you a drink.”

  “I don’t want one.”

  “It may help.”

  “There isn’t enough whiskey in Buffalo to cure what I’m feeling.”

  The mechanical dog jumped up on the cushions beside her. She patted it, but her attention remained on Mitch.

  “Tell me. Tell me how—” Her voice failed.

  “I got out?”

  “How you survived.”

  A crooked, painful smile tugged at Mitch’s lips. He sat down next to her and gave her a cool look. “I doubt you want to hear that.”

  “I do, because having seen the place, I can’t imagine. You must be so very strong.”

  He shrugged; he’d rather have all his teeth yanked out with pliers than talk about this subject, but since she asked, he’d force himself to do so. He’d give her anything she asked. Almost.

  “You have to remember that in the beginning I didn’t know any better. Having been there from an infant, I had no idea people lived differently. It wasn’t till I grew old enough to talk to other boys—the ones who’d once had parents and lost them—I found out children didn’t all exist that way, in the cold and the half-dark.”

  “Were you raised by mechanicals?”

  “What makes you ask that?”

  “Both institutions I’ve visited so far are staffed mainly by steam units.”

  “No. Mechanicals hadn’t risen in popularity back then. I remember only one battered unit, barely functional. There was a succession of women—none stayed long—but mostly we boys did the work. Raised one another.”

  Rough and ready, it had been. Bullying, loyalty, and yes, a few glints of kindness. Pity, sometimes. Friendships that grew like weeds in an empty building lot.

  Something had to grow, and weeds were pretty hard to eradicate.

  “Don’t trouble your head about it,” he told her. “It’s all in the past.”

  “But it’s not; it’s still happening today. I’ve seen—I can’t tell you what I saw there.”

  She didn’t have to.

  “The children were all so thin, and half of them looked sickly, with these bleak, haunted eyes. Many of them bear marks—welts and bruises. The man who runs the place, a Mr. Grendan, insists they’re never abused, m
erely disciplined.

  Disciplined. That was what Fink had called it, too. The strap with three tails. Being forced to work all night with torn and bloody hands. Denial of rations.

  The black room.

  No, he couldn’t let himself think of that. But he wondered if that room still existed, way at the back of the house.

  Very carefully he asked, “Did you see the whole place?”

  “No. Not even the officer we had with us could persuade the man to show us the infirmary. Or the cellar.”

  “Tess, best to accept it: such places merely exist.”

  “Well, they shouldn’t.”

  “They do.”

  “Then it’s time for change.”

  “I wish you’d drop this crusade. Involve yourself, if you must, in something else, something more genteel.”

  “And forget about those children we’ve seen? As you were forgotten?”

  “Don’t break your heart over them.”

  A new look flooded her eyes; her hand traveled half way to her pocket and withdrew again. “Then over what should I break my heart?”

  “Don’t break it at all, Tessa. Just stay here and be my wife—protected and cared for. Let me take care of you.”

  “Will you?”

  “Yes. I promise it.” He raised his hand to her cheek, which felt soft as velvet. All at once he could see that she—she—was the one soft thing in his life. He gazed into her eyes, and she swayed toward him.

  “Hold me, Mitch. Please.”

  And just like that, after all the waiting and suffering, she came into his arms. Heaven. He tried telling himself she just needed comfort and he happened to be available. Nothing more than that. But every inch of him responded to her presence and cried aloud in gladness.

  “Tessa,” he whispered.

  “Don’t let me go.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I need—I need…” She drew away far enough to gaze into his face. “Stay with me?”

  “Eh?”

  “In my room. Tonight.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “I think…I think it’s what I need.”

  And to think, Mitch marveled to himself, he’d once scoffed at miracles.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “No, don’t light the lamp,” Tessa begged as Mitch half carried her into her bedroom.