“I don’t understand you, Garrett,” she whispered. “I thought you were different. I thought you would realize the importance of this, even if no one else did.”
Garrett felt a deep sense of emptiness after Mia left. He stood for several minutes looking at the gate through which she’d passed into the garden. No doubt she was safely in the house by now. He should simply put the matter behind him and return to his own home.
But I can’t just put this behind me—because she won’t. He blew out a heavy breath and walked very slowly to the back door of his house. Knowing what she was involving herself in only served to make Garrett more uncomfortable. Mia would see this as a grand cause but would never recognize the danger in which she had placed herself. Those men who were seeking to have their monies repaid would not care that Mia was a lady of high regard. Of course, society as a whole would rise up in protest should something happen to one of the elite, but even then it would only be a nominal effort at best. No, if something happened to cause Mia harm, people would openly detest the matter and speak against it while muttering under their breath that perhaps she’d gotten what she deserved. After all, what woman of means would put herself in such a dangerous position to begin with? What properly brought-up young lady would even dare to dabble in such unacceptable situations?
Garrett entered the kitchen and was surprised to find his father there. A single candle had been lit and placed on the table. The glow afforded Garrett the chance to see that his father was eating milk-soaked bread.
“You gave me a start,” his father said. “What in the world were you doing outside at this hour?”
Garrett sat opposite him at the table. “I went for a walk.” At least that wasn’t a lie. There was no chance he could tell his father what had really happened.
“Did it rain?”
“Yes, but only lightly and not for long.”
“I thought to come down and see if I couldn’t settle my stomach with some milk and bread.”
“Has it troubled you for long?”
His father shrugged. “I’ve not wished to worry anyone, but of late I’ve had a bad case of sour stomach.”
Garrett frowned. “It’s more of a worry to know you’re ailing and not receiving proper care. When did it start?”
His father put down his spoon. “Before Christmas. It’s gradually grown worse. I meant to say something to you, but as I said, I did not wish to cause you concern.”
“You should let a doctor consider the matter. This could be serious.”
His father waved him off. “A doctor considered your mother’s condition and it did little good.”
“Mother was stubborn like you and told no one she was ill until it was too late. You might yet have a chance to treat whatever the malady. Perhaps it’s nothing more serious than eating rich food. But you’ll never know unless you seek the doctor’s opinion.”
Garrett looked at his father and realized for the first time how very thin he appeared. He’d lost a good amount of weight in the last months. Even Mercy had commented the other morning at breakfast how pale he’d been. Garrett hadn’t really thought about it then. His father had attributed his coloring to poor lighting, but Garrett knew the light had been just fine.
“Are you in pain?”
His father said nothing for several minutes. Garrett thought perhaps he’d refuse to discuss the issue further, but finally he spoke.
“Yes. Sometimes the pain is quite intense.” He looked up to meet Garrett’s expression. “I do not want your stepmother to know.”
“Don’t you think that a bit cruel? If something serious is happening to you, she would want to be prepared.”
“She cannot prepare for her future. We must do that. You know this house and everything in it belongs to you. The business is already a partnership, with my share going to you upon my death. Of course there is a yearly stipend to be given to my wife and daughters. But it would never be enough to support their current style of living.”
“I would never see them put from this house. As far as I’m concerned, this is their home. I have even thought of buying my own home of late.”
“I would rather you stayed on—at least for a time. Let us see what might happen with this . . . this problem.”
Garrett shook his head. “Father, I insist you see the doctor tomorrow. We need to know what the problem is. Mercy needs to know. Then I want you to rewrite your will to give your shares of the business to Mercy and the girls. I have more than I will ever need. I have invested my profits wisely and they are paying a good dividend.”
“You are a godly and compassionate man,” his father said, his voice breaking. “I could not have asked for a better son.”
Garrett reached out and touched his father’s hand. “It is by your example that I have become the man I am. Your wife and children have been a blessing to me. I will see them well cared for in the future should you be gone.”
“No man could ask for more.” His father pushed back the bowl and got to his feet. “I will do as you have asked and speak to the doctor. But I beg you, say nothing to your stepmother. She has been so happy of late. I would like to see that sustained for as long as possible.”
“I promise to remain silent for as long as I can,” Garrett replied. “I would do nothing to cause Mercy pain.”
“Thank you. I will retire now.” His father took up a candlestick by the stove and lit the wick. “You have always made me proud, Garrett, but perhaps never so much as this night.”
Garrett watched his father go and felt an uneasiness grow inside. To imagine his father so very ill was difficult. The man had always been a pillar of strength. Perhaps it wasn’t as critical as it seemed. Garrett tried to think of the situation in a positive light. Many people suffered because of their rich diets. The Wilson household was well known for its sumptuous, heavy meals. Garrett would speak to the cook about eliminating some of the rich sauces and fatty meats. Perhaps if his father were to alter his diet, he would feel better. It was at least worth a try.
But then Garrett knew if he said anything to the cook and the meals changed, Mercy would know there was a problem. He ran his hand through his hair and bowed his head.
“Lord, I don’t know what to do. Mia is in danger and Father is ill. It would seem I am the bearer of a great many secrets tonight. Secrets I can neither understand nor withstand on my own. Please show me what to do. Show me how I might best help.”
He tried to imagine his world so drastically altered as to find neither his father nor Mia in it. The thought was most unbearable, yet there seemed nothing he could do.
“Well, one thing I can manage is to send for Rodney.”
Rodney Eckridge was the man his father had hired to be in charge of some of his many properties. This included tenements down by the docks. Garrett was certain there was no problem with their own properties, but perhaps Rodney could find someone with information about those places where the landlords were being overbearing. They might even offer information about the debt collectors and the conniving that was going on to threaten the lives of the women and children Mia cared so much about. At least he could offer this. He hoped it would be enough to appease Mia’s anger and put him back in her good graces.
Mia paced her bedroom, enraged by the conversation she’d had with Garrett. How can he be so insensitive as to demand I stand by and do nothing? How can he simply offer the excuse that the poor will always be with us?
“That man is so . . . so . . .” She couldn’t finish her sentence. There were simply no words for it. Garrett had disappointed her and never before could she remember that having happened.
“He acts as though he has some right to command me. He’s being an overbearing big brother without regard to my thoughts or feelings.”
She went to her desk and looked at the sheet of paper on which she’d written her thoughts and information regarding her meeting with Deborah Denning.
“I won’t desert them. I won’t stop because Garrett Wilson
fears for my safety. What of the safety of those women—of their children? Surely that is the more reasonable consideration. My safety is hardly threatened compared to theirs.”
She carefully put her papers in the desk drawer. “Besides, I’m doing a good thing. Surely God would not allow harm to come to someone when she is doing His work.”
CHAPTER 7
“Mia, there is something we wish to discuss with you,” her father stated at breakfast the next morning.
Mia looked up from her plate of fresh fruit and smiled. “Of course. What is it?”
She noted that her mother looked uncomfortable, refusing to give more than a cursory glance in Mia’s direction.
“Your mother and I are quite concerned about this . . . this . . . position you have with the Godey people.” He held up his hand even as Mia opened her mouth to protest. “Please hear me out.”
Mia put her fork down and nodded. “Very well.”
Her father squared his shoulders. “In the beginning your interest seemed harmless enough. Writing about table settings and proper fashion seemed acceptable for a refined lady. But little by little your attention has been completely taken over by the magazine and the issues that concern them. A few hours a week soon evolved into a few hours every day. And simple issues of interest to women were transformed into political arguments and causes.”
He paused only long enough to lean back in his chair. “Mia, it was never our desire that you take on employment. It does not become a woman of your social status. You have no need to work, and in fact may well be keeping some other decent soul from a much-needed job.”
Mia frowned at that thought. She’d never considered the situation in that way. True, she only received a pittance for her work, but even that amount would take a poor woman far. Unfortunately, she thought, not many women of lower status had the education required to perform the job needed.
“Further, it is something that grieves your mother greatly. The subject is often discussed among our friends.”
“And they find it most alarming,” her mother put in. “They fear their own daughters will want to imitate your actions. They’ve pleaded with me to influence you to stop.” She put her hand to her forehead. “The whole matter has given me horrible headaches.”
“It’s also put you in danger—”
“Who said that?” Mia interrupted, nearly coming up out of her chair.
Lyman Stanley frowned as he surveyed Mia. “No one has said anything. Even I cannot say what I mean if you interrupt me.”
She relaxed a bit. “I’m sorry. You both know how important this job has been to me. I feel I must defend it and myself.”
“As I started to say, I fear you are in danger of passing up the chance to marry and settle down. The men in our circle of friends do not wish to have a wife who labors. The very thought is unappealing and lends you a masculine air.”
“A masculine air? In what way?” She could not imagine.
“You concern yourself with the issues of labor and politics, for one,” her mother said. Mia could see the disapproval in her mother’s eyes. “I have been quite humiliated to have it pointed out to me that you probably know more about such issues than many of the men with whom your father associates.”
“There is nothing wrong with having knowledge,” Mia declared. “Why, they allow women in colleges these days. Here in Philadelphia they are even opening the medical field to women with a college all their own.”
“And I find such things deplorable,” her mother admitted. “Even scandalous. What woman—especially an unmarried woman—has the right to educate herself about such things as the male anatomy?”
Mia wanted to laugh but knew she dare not. “Since women give birth to young men and care for them until they’re old enough to care for themselves, I would think it important that they understand male anatomy. Not only do they care for sons, they care for husbands and sometimes for elderly fathers. Why would a woman not desire to be as knowledgeable as possible?”
“But theirs is for the purpose of caring for total strangers. It isn’t proper and it isn’t decent. Even Pastor Brunswick speaks against it. He believes it will stimulate inappropriate responses.”
“Be that as it may,” her father cut in, “we needn’t worry about Mia becoming a doctor. What is of concern, however, is that your focus is on this magazine instead of finding a proper mate. If you will not do the job for yourself, Mia, your mother and I believe we must do it for you.”
“What?” She was appalled. The very idea of her father and mother imposing an arranged marriage on her was beyond words.
Her father looked at her with great sympathy. “I wouldn’t want to see you unhappy, Mia, but this matter is of great importance.”
“But why? Why now?”
He looked to her mother, then back to Mia. “You know we are soon to travel to England. It seems your aunt Elizabeth has in mind to introduce you to an eligible man of considerable means. To see you joined to this man would bode well for the family.”
“I’m not going to marry an Englishman!” Mia declared in uncharacteristic anger. “You cannot even wish such a thing for me. We are Americans.”
“The war is long over, Mia,” her mother replied. “You cannot desire to perpetuate a bitterness and hatred that was resolved over fifty years ago.”
“The burning of Washington and attack on New Orleans was hardly that long ago, but even so, my anger does not burn toward the English. I was merely stating that we are Americans. Our interests and home are here. I would not wish to be parted from the things and people I love in order to take an English husband. Furthermore, I’ve no desire to make this trip with you. Perhaps I could go and stay with Ann or Sally. Surely my sisters would not begrudge me a bed while you are abroad. I might even find hospitality in Mrs. Hale’s home and remain right here in Philadelphia.”
“I think we’re getting away from the subject at hand,” her father said. He always had a way of firmly reining in a wayward conversation.
“Which is what?” Mia asked.
“Your work for Godey’s is undesirable for a woman of means. You need to put an end to it.”
“Father, that is unfair. You know how much I enjoy what I do. I have done nothing to shame you or to deserve such reproach. I have conducted myself in a ladylike manner. My friends think my interest at Godey’s is marvelous. They admire me for it.”
“It’s easy to claim such feelings in a private circle,” her mother said, “but I doubt you’d hear them dare such opinions in public.”
Mia realized she couldn’t win the argument. It would probably be best to let the topic settle for a few days and then approach it again. “Please give me a little time to think about this. I have obligations and cannot simply walk away without giving Mrs. Hale some consideration. It wouldn’t be proper.”
She pushed her plate back, no longer having an appetite. “As for the idea of finding me a suitor, I assure you there are proper American men I find worthy. I will consider them more seriously. I had no idea I had become such a burden to you.”
“You are no burden, Mia Elizabeth Stanley, and well you know it.” Her father was not fooled by her self-martyred comment. “Your mother and I wish only the best for you. We want to see you happy, but we also want to see you remember your boundaries. Society will tolerate a great many mistakes made in youth, but that time is quickly passing from you.”
“And well I know it.” Mia suddenly felt very old. “If I might be excused, I’d like to reflect on this in private.”
Her father nodded and Mia got to her feet. “I am sorry if I have disappointed you.” She frowned, feeling the sting of tears come to her eyes. “I have always tried to be respectful—honoring you both no matter the situation or circumstance. You will always have my love, and perhaps soon I will restore your belief in my good judgment.”
She hurried from the room, knowing that if she remained she might well begin to cry in earnest. Why did the world have to turn upside
down just now? Now, when she particularly needed all of her wits about her.
Garrett opened the door to Rodney Eckridge’s office, pulling the hat from his head as he entered.
“Mr. Wilson, this is a pleasant surprise. When I received your note this morning, I cleared my schedule and awaited your arrival.”
Garrett smiled. “I appreciate that you would take this time to meet with me. I have some rather troublesome concerns to discuss.”
“Your business is my business. Have a seat.” Eckridge, a small man in his fifties, had been a good friend of Garrett’s father for over thirty years and each had great respect for the other. Rodney Eckridge had been a struggling lawyer when George Wilson first met him. The two had become fast friends and Rodney turned out to be a much more capable manager than lawyer.
“Something has come to my attention, and I wanted to discuss it with you,” Garrett said, taking a seat in one of the large leather chairs in front of Rodney’s desk.
“Pray tell.”
“I’ve heard about a disturbing situation that relates to the wives of seafarers. It seems that many of the women are being pressed for debts left by their departed husbands. These are debts that might be owed by a living man or dead.”
“The law seems to care little for the truth of the matter in either case,” Rodney said. “It seems clear that legally, a woman can be held responsible for her husband’s debts. Women are thrown out of their homes all the time when their husbands die and leave them without funds. I’ve seen entire estates sold off to pay the debt of men who were thought to be wealthy, but came up short. Debt is a disgraceful thing, and it causes no end of pain and suffering for those who bear its consequences.”
Garrett considered this for a moment. “The story I’m hearing is that some of these women are being raped for payment—that their children are being taken and indentured in order to pay back such debts. Please tell me this is not happening among the women who rent from us.”
A Lady of High Regard Page 6
