Beneath a Golden Veil

by Melanie Dobson

  Victor desperately wanted what he couldn’t have; she’d known it from the time she was a girl. The more she fought Victor, the more he refused to give up. If she willingly gave him what he desired, he lost interest for a season, basking in his power.

  On their walk back to the hotel last night, Alden had told her they would find a way to rescue Isaac, but only a miracle would help them now. Alden wouldn’t understand why she had agreed to return with Victor, perhaps even if she told him the truth about Isaac, but no matter what she must endure, she could never let Isaac go back with him.

  Thank God her son was alive and free. She would cling to the hope of his future.

  Standing up, she walked to the window and looked at the brick building across the street. Alden had tried to secure the room next to hers last night, but the hotel was booked, so he and Isaac had stayed in a room above the bowling alley. For just a moment yesterday, as they stood before the judge, she’d seen something new in Alden’s eyes. Wonder, perhaps. And dare she think it, something like love.

  But she no longer trusted her instincts about love. Back in Sacramento, she’d thought that Ross cared for her and that Alden was a loathsome slave owner. Victor, it seemed, had messed up her ability to distinguish who she could trust and who was out to deceive her.

  It was a foolish thought to think that Alden might care for her anyway. She was more than a tainted woman. She was ruined, as wrecked as the streets of Sacramento after the fire. Aunt Emeline might have called her Isabelle. Beloved. A daughter of God. But Victor would call her something else. Terrible names that no woman should ever hear, names she feared she would begin to believe again.

  In the darkness, she prayed that Victor would make good on his word and leave Isaac here. And then she asked, if possible, that she could be free as well to raise her son.

  By the time the sun rose, she had washed, dressed, and pinned up her hair. Alden knocked on the door at seven, and she opened it. He looked exhausted too.

  “Could you sleep?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Not well.”

  “I saw your lantern early this morning.”

  “I was—” She paused. “I was praying.”

  “Me too.”

  She glanced behind him. “Where’s Isaac?”

  “I asked him to stay and read in our room.”

  “But the judge said—”

  “We’re going to fight this. I’ll pass the bar and take it all the way up to the Supreme Court if I must.”

  She contemplated again telling him the truth about Isaac, but fighting for her son in court wouldn’t work. The law wasn’t on her side. She’d longed to hug Isaac one last time, but perhaps it was for the best. If she held him in her arms again, she might not release him.

  Isaac was free now, and she wanted him to be free for the rest of his life, not worried about the mother he’d left behind. As much as she wanted to tell him the truth—that she loved him with all her heart—perhaps genuine love meant that she needed to let him go. That was the one thing that Victor had never been able to do.

  She stepped out into the parlor and locked the door behind her.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t remember who you were until last night,” Alden said as they moved toward the stairs.

  She shook her head. “I was a different person back in Virginia.”

  “You were just as beautiful.”

  “I didn’t feel very beautiful.”

  “I didn’t understand—” He stumbled over his words. “I should have helped you back then.”

  When he stopped on the top step, she looked into his eyes. “You can’t rescue everyone, Alden.”

  “Perhaps not, but I could have helped you. Please forgive me for not fighting for you then.”

  He hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet she understood his shame. He was a victim of this institution as well. “You are forgiven, Alden.”

  His face warmed with his smile. “Thank you.”

  She followed him down the steps, and he offered his arm as they walked onto the street. For those brief minutes, she pretended that she really was Mrs. Payne. That she was honored and cherished by Alden. That she had a home to call her own with no fear of someone snatching her away. She pretended she could speak her mind in a court of law and rely on justice to protect her and her innocence.

  But she was only a project to Alden, a defendant in need of a lawyer. Still, she feared he would be furious when he found out today what she’d offered.

  Then again, he would only be angry if he cared.

  Victor and the judge were waiting for them in justice court, but it seemed that all except two miners had returned to their claims this morning.

  After they stepped inside, Judge Roth looked at the door behind them. “Where is the boy?”

  Isabelle spoke first. “Mr. Duvall and I settled this dispute last night.”

  Alden swiveled toward her. “What?”

  The judge looked up at her, sighing. “Do I need to remind you that you’re prohibited from testifying?”

  “I didn’t realize discussing a bargain was considered testimony.”

  Alden stopped her. “I would like to buy Isaac, Your Honor. I will offer Mr. Duvall a fair price.”

  The judge looked at Victor. “Would you accept those terms?”

  He shook his head. “I will only accept Mallie’s terms.”

  “And what are those?”

  “That she goes back to Virginia with me, in exchange for the boy.” He looked over at Alden. “Isaac is yours.”

  Alden stepped forward, his eyes panicked. “I will give you a thousand dollars for Isaac if Isabelle remains with him.”

  “I don’t want Isaac anymore.”

  “Two thousand.”

  “That’s enough, Mr. Payne,” the judge said. “A deal has been struck.”

  Isabelle couldn’t look back over at Alden. “He also agreed to drop the kidnapping charges against Mr. Payne.”

  Victor’s face contorted, but he ultimately agreed that it was true.

  Isabelle slipped a piece of paper onto the judge’s desk without a word. It was the freedom paper she’d written up early that morning, for Victor to sign.

  “What does it say?” Victor asked the judge.

  “It says that Isaac has been emancipated from slavery. From now on, he will be free and under the care and guardianship of Alden Payne.”

  Victor drew an X across the bottom line. Then he reached for Isabelle’s arm, and she cringed as he led her toward the door.

  Alden was close on her heels, reaching for her as well. “You can’t do this.”

  “I must,” she said, shaking him off. “Tell Isaac to use the key I gave him.”

  Alden stepped in front of Victor. “I’m not letting you leave.”

  Victor smirked. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  Alden glanced back at the judge. “This isn’t right.”

  “Step away from him, Mr. Payne,” the judge commanded.

  “Not until he releases Miss Labrie.”

  Instead of responding, Judge Roth nodded toward the other two men in the room. They flanked Alden, each of them taking an arm and pinning it behind him. He wrestled against the men as Victor moved around him, shoving Isabelle toward the door.

  The judge sighed, pointing toward the wall. “Take him to the jail.”

  Isabelle braced herself against the doorpost. “But he’s supposed to take care of Isaac.”

  “He’ll only be in jail until you and Mr. Duvall leave town.”

  As Alden struggled to break free, she glimpsed the sorrow in his eyes, a rawness that spoke of fear. And a tender love.

  She closed her eyes as Victor pushed her into the street, the image of Alden embedded into her mind. Her heart.

  Alden did care for her, in spite of her past. More than she could ever have dreamed.

  She’d cling to that picture of his love for the rest of her life.

  Chapter 45

  Columbia

&nbs
p; August 1854

  Brandy burned the lining of Victor’s throat, inflaming his stomach, but it didn’t stop the pounding in his head. The last two silver dimes in his wallet were spent and still there was no relief for his pain.

  After all these years, Mallie was finally his, yet she wasn’t as he remembered. The beauty remained, flourished even, but her respect for him was gone.

  She’d fought him back in her hotel room, giving him a lump behind his ear. He’d wrestled her down and tied her to the post of her bed, threatening all manner of things if she screamed again, not the least of which was kidnapping Isaac if she didn’t cooperate. He was still stronger than she—and a good inch taller—but she defied him with eyes that used to fear him, eyes now filled with disgust instead of awe.

  And those eyes reminded him of Eliza.

  He’d go back to the hotel room when the darkness came, after the brandy cured his head. Then he wouldn’t care one whit about Mallie’s eyes. He’d teach her to revere him again, and she wouldn’t be able to fight back this time. Nor could she drain his power away. No matter what she did, he would remain in control.

  When he was finished, Mallie would call him master again.

  He took another swig.

  Captain Ahab had triumphed in darting his whale before Moby-Dick took him down, but there was no victory for Victor yet. Nor was there any money left to take Mallie and Isaac on a coach back to Sacramento. He’d searched her hotel room for an hour, but all he found were two measly dimes.

  If Eliza were here, she’d be laughing at him again. Was Mallie laughing too?

  A new hatred began to burn inside him with the brandy.

  He’d loved Mallie with his entire heart, doing everything to provide for her, love her, and she was laughing at him. Mocking him because of his ragged clothing, his incompetence. Because he couldn’t read.

  No one laughed at Victor Duvall.

  Mallie was his, and she would pay for her scorn.

  As he stood up from the bar stool, the tables and mirrors around him began to spin. Even the chandelier overhead rocked back and forth.

  A man wearing a long overcoat slid onto the stool beside him. “It looks like you need another one,” he said.

  Victor dumped his wallet onto the counter. “I’ve used up all my resources.”

  When the man clapped him on the shoulder, Victor teetered back onto the stool. “I’ll buy you another.”

  His new friend told him stories about his adventures and laughed at jokes that Victor didn’t find funny. But he drank a third brandy on the man’s bill. Then a fourth.

  And suddenly nothing seemed to matter anymore.

  Alden raked his hands through his hair, pacing alongside the wooden bench in the jail cell. The light had faded outside the barred windows, and a dank air settled over the bricks around him.

  Back in the courtroom, he’d ripped off the bridle of restraint, trying to protect Isabelle, and now there was nothing he could do to help. He’d lose her too, just like he’d lost Benjamin.

  He slapped his hand on the bricks.

  Isabelle never should have agreed to return to slavery without consulting him first. They could have fought this together. With the money from his gold nugget, he could have convinced Victor to sell Isaac, like he and Stephan had done for Persila.

  But once Isabelle offered herself, no amount of money would motivate Victor. A nugget of gold may pay for room and board and buy nice clothing and decent passage on a ship, but it wouldn’t resolve this.

  He clenched the iron bars on the door and shook them. He’d tried to pick the lock from the inside, like he’d done with his father’s desk, but he needed a hairpin or needle to do it. The jailer had made sure he had neither.

  He sank down to the bench, his head in his hands as despair filtered through the darkness, its talons piercing him. He had to stop Victor before he took Isabelle away, but he was useless as long as he was trapped in this cell.

  Minutes passed and then another hour before lantern light trickled down the dirt path outside the cell. Then he saw a familiar face on the other side of the bars, a man smiling between his mustache and spade beard.

  Judah Fallow had come at last, but after all this, Alden wanted to thrash him. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

  “I’ve been all over,” Judah replied. “I heard you might need some help with the law.”

  “I wish you’d heard that news yesterday.” Alden folded his arms over his chest. “The law here didn’t do me or my client any favors.”

  “Clearly.” Judah held up his lantern to look into the cell. “At least you’ve got the place to yourself.”

  After Alden told him what had happened in the courtroom, Judah groaned. “We sing about this sweet land of liberty, and yet the liberty is only sweet for a portion of our citizens.”

  “I’m terrified that Victor will kill Isabelle.”

  “If Judge Roth won’t serve justice, then we’ll have to serve it ourselves.”

  “She won’t leave Victor,” he said. “She’s protecting Isaac from him.”

  “Then Victor will have to leave her.”

  Alden shook his head. “He’d never do that.”

  “I happen to know that your Mr. Duvall is at a saloon across town this evening, drinking away what seem to be his sorrows with an associate of mine.”

  Alden wrapped his fingers around the bars again. “But Victor got exactly what he wanted today.”

  “Getting what we want doesn’t always make us happy.”

  “Can you help me secure his passage back to Boston?” Alden pleaded. “I have enough gold to pay for it.”

  “Keep your gold. As long as you make good on working for me back in Sacramento, that is.”

  “I’ll gladly work for you.”

  Judah glanced back at the door. “The jailer will be here in a moment. I told the judge that Mr. Duvall is on his way out of town and that I’d keep my eye on you for the rest of the night.”

  Hope flooded him again. Perhaps it wasn’t too late after all.

  “Do you know where Isabelle is?” Judah asked.

  “I’ll find her.”

  “Before we send him off, let’s have a chat with your Mr. Duvall to make sure he won’t bother her again.”

  Chapter 46

  Columbia

  August 1854

  Darkness crushed Victor’s head, and he struggled to breathe. Under his cheek was dirt. Grass.

  He wrestled against the cuff of blackness, trying to open his eyes. But there was no light. Not enough air to fill his lungs.

  Where was his friend from the saloon? The one who’d helped his headache go away.

  He needed another brandy. Just one more sip to stop the pain.

  He tried to push away from the dirt, but someone pressed a hand against his shoulder, pinning him to the ground.

  “Don’t move, Victor.”

  “Alden?” he slurred. Eyes forced open, he turned and saw fury raining down on him.

  “Where is she?” Alden demanded.

  He shut his eyes again. “You’re in jail.”

  “Not anymore. Where’s Isabelle?”

  His entire body spun when he tried to lift his head. “Waiting for me.”

  There were others now on both sides of Alden, staring down at him. They rolled him over on the dirt and wrapped something tight around his wrists. He smelled hemp, like the rope that trapped Captain Ahab. Were they planning to toss him into the sea? If only he had his knife—

  Alden shook his arm. “Where is she?”

  His laugh sounded more like a gurgle. Alden still wanted Mallie, but he couldn’t have her. None of these men could.

  They lifted him off the dirt, and his head banged against something hard when they tossed him onto a wood platform. Then something else jabbed his neck. Straw. He started to itch.

  Alden was in his face again. “Did you take her to a new hotel?”

  “No—untie these ropes.”

  “You’re no
t in a position to negotiate,” Alden said.

  Someone poured another drink into his mouth, and he welcomed the heat. Hopefully it would dull the pain.

  “She’s not in her room,” Victor said.

  “I know that.”

  Words then slipped out of his mouth in the muddle of darkness, against Victor’s will. “She’s next door.”

  No one answered Alden’s persistent knock, but the lock on the hotel room door didn’t stop him. He borrowed a nail from behind an oil painting in the parlor and picked it.

  Isabelle’s hands were tied over her head against the bedpost, her bare feet secured at the bottom. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and her cheek was mottled with purple and blue. A bandana was stuffed into her mouth, and the sleeve on her dress was shredded, as if she’d tried over and over to release herself from her bonds.

  And she was so still. Like Benjamin.

  His chest clenched as he stood over her with his lantern, blood boiling inside him.

  Please save her, he prayed. He couldn’t bear to lose someone else he loved.

  And he knew it then, as he cut the rope off her wrists. He loved Isabelle Labrie with his entire heart. Loved her strength and her courage. Loved her willingness to risk her life to save someone else. Loved her resilience to overcome her past as she pressed boldly into the future.

  He gently massaged the rope burns on her arms, begging God to breathe life back into her. Then he propped her head up on a pillow before cutting the leather strips that bound her legs. With water from the basin, he carefully cleaned her wounds. She moaned at his touch but didn’t open her eyes.

  “Isabelle,” he whispered, easing back her hair.

  She moaned again when he dabbed the water on the cut above her eye. Slowly, she opened her good eye, and when she saw him, she flinched. “You’re not supposed to be here, Alden.”

  “I had to find you.”

  “Victor will kill you when he returns.”

  He leaned away from her, grateful to hear her voice. “Victor isn’t going to find me.”

  “He’ll come back,” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “Not this time.”