All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  She stared in amazement. It was real. Frederick was gone. To California! For five years, she had lived for this moment. Without doubt, this would be the only opportunity of this kind she would ever be blessed with.

  She wasn’t about to let it be wasted.

  Ringing for Sung Li, she waited patiently for him to come to her private sitting room. He knocked discreetly and entered at her response. “You rang, missy?”

  “Yes, Sung Li.” She clutched the telegram, aware that her voice was edged with desperation but unable to contain herself. “It seems my husband has been called away to the western coast on business.”

  For the first time she could remember, the old butler smiled. “Very good, missy.”

  “Yes,” she replied more firmly. “It is very good. Sung Li, I hope I can…I trust I can count on your discretion?”

  “Missy,” he said with the warmth of a grandfather, “I will help you in any way I can.”

  “Thank you, Sung Li,” She reached out and grasped his wrinkled hand in her own pale ones.

  Sung Li contained his surprise very well, but was pleased, nonetheless. He had developed a genuine fondness for his mistress since her marriage to Hayes. He had been her supporter and aided her to conceal the problems and difficulties of her marriage from everyone, including the household staff. All the while, he had never known of her mutual affection for him, a servant, though it gratified him immensely. Of course, he understood her reticence. The master never would have stood for it. Now that there was no need to conceal truths, he spoke honestly. “You mustn’t do anything rash, missy. Careful planning is called for.”

  “I have your support in this then?”

  “Missy, I am at your command.”

  Chapter 4

  It was too late for happiness –

  but not too late to be helped

  by the thought of what I had missed.

  That is all I have lived on –

  don’t take it from me now!

  ~ Edith Wharton from The House of Mirth

  It was not the marriage Kitty had imagined for herself.

  Like her sister, Kitty had never expected to be able to choose her own husband; the responsibility of their inheritance was too great and its attraction to fortune hunters required that suitors be carefully screened. In the end, after a short London Season that failed to produce any desirable suitors, her father had accepted the proposal of Frederick Hayes, of the banking Hayes of Boston. She had spent many summers growing up with him in Newport, Rhode Island, where their families both summered. He had been a sincere suitor of her early adolescence. When she had returned from school in England at eighteen, he had courted her in earnest. He had waited through the Season for her, always declaring his passionate and undying love through an endless stream of letters, though in the end their engagement had been negotiated by their parents.

  She never would have imagined when she became Freddie’s wife that her life would become the one she was now living. She, who had been the darling of the Old New York Society. Her father, Lelan Preston, may have only been the second son of an Irish viscount, but her mother was Margaret Winters, a cousin to the Astors. That family connection had launched her to the pinnacle of Society. The Prestons were listed among Mrs. Caroline Astor’s ‘Four Hundred’! Her father was also one of the richest men in New York. He had apprenticed at the Commodore’s right hand and established his shipping and railroad interests from there.

  By the time that Kitty made her debut, he was worth over a hundred million dollars, a fortune on par with that of the Vanderbilts, the Carnegies, and the Rockefellers.

  While her sister, Eve, had always been a little on the wild side, Kitty was the perfect debutante, definitely the sister who was better at walking the right side of the line between propriety and social ruin. Where Evelyn abhorred the ritual, rules and customs, Kitty adored the world where proper Form and Taste were adhered to above all. Lelan Preston often teased his ‘little kitten’ that he and Evelyn needed Kitty and Margaret Preston to maintain their social position because they did it better than anyone he knew.

  It was a world in which she excelled under the tutelage of her mother, in whose footsteps she followed as a premiere hostess of their set.

  It was exactly these qualities that had first infatuated Frederick Hayes. And he had remained infatuated with her.

  Infatuated through their engagement of nearly two years.

  Infatuated through their honeymoon.

  Infatuated right up until they had hosted their first dinner party.

  It had gone splendidly in Kitty’s mind. After all, her mother had raised her to be a superb host. She had been a charming and witty conversationalist to her end of the table while overseeing the meal and servants with ease.

  When the door had closed behind the final guest, she had hugged herself in triumph and beamed at Freddie, only to find him frowning at her.

  “You flirted outrageously with my cousin Arthur,” he accused, his tone coldly furious.

  The smile had fled her face and she turned away to retire to her rooms. “You’re drunk, Freddie.”

  “You are never to flirt with another man, ever again,” he had hissed along the way, following her into her rooms.

  “Are you joking?”

  “No, I am not! You are my wife. Mine! You will follow my wishes in all things.”

  “Not likely,” she answered, waving off his drunken possessiveness with a laugh.

  He was always childishly domineering, always a bit jealous of any man who dared flirt with her. He’d always gotten a bit angry with her when he perceived that flirtation had been returned by her. She’d thought little of it at the time. He had long been immaturely temperamental. It had never occurred to her that that moment would be a turning point for them.

  She never saw the open hand that flew, but had stared at him, holding her cheek more from astonishment than pain. “What the hell was that?”

  He hit her again, this time with the back of his hand, bringing stars to her eyes, but Kitty wasn’t her father’s daughter for nothing. She took a swing back at him, shouting, “Who on earth do you think you are?”

  “I am your husband, your master. You will reserve your attentions for me,” he had yelled, and tried to swing again, but she had dodged it and swung her own fist at him, connecting solidly with his jaw.

  Although he had staggered back from the blow, her defense had only served to enrage him more. His open hand became a closed fist. He hit her several more times and Kitty fought back for all she was worth, until his rage had turned to lust. He’d thrown her on the floor, taking her with a violence that had sickened her. She had never, in all the years since, forgiven him for that.

  The next morning, he’d been remorseful and begged her forgiveness tearfully saying that he had been drinking and jealous of her attentions to the cousin he had envied his entire life. He had sworn it would never happen again. He was a jealous man, he told her, and she knew that, but if she gave him no reason to doubt her, this would never happen again.

  Of course, it did.

  Once the trend of drinking and violence had begun, there was no stopping it. His personal anger with his own business failures had rolled over into anger and jealousy with her and soon he didn’t even need liquor to trigger it. Kitty fought him back every time until the realization came that it was her resistance that sparked his lust. That her beloved daughter, Hannah, had been born of such shameful acts would haunt her for the rest of her life, but she loved her daughter beyond anything she had ever dreamed possible. Naturally, Freddie had seen a daughter as another failure, sparking even more violence, but Kitty was done fighting. Not only was she beaten physically, but she also felt as if she were truly beaten in her soul.

  Regardless of how many times he would apologize, declare his undying love and promise to reform, he never did. Kitty ignored him when possible, stoically withstood his abuse when necessary and defended and protected her daughter with the ferocity of a lio
ness.

  Not long ago, little Hannah had tripped and fallen against her father’s leg, grabbing at his trouser leg with dirty hands to steady herself. When he had tried to take a swing at her, Kitty had stepped between them to stop him. His retribution had been violently painful. After the fight was over, he had apologized yet again and offered to let them go on to Newport earlier than planned so she might have time to forgive him. Business was bad. That was his excuse. His imports expected from Asia had not yet arrived and he was on edge waiting for word of them. Apparently, his railroad interests were suffering as well.

  She tried to leave him twice in the first three years, once after the second incident—having foolishly believed that it wouldn’t happen again—and the second when she discovered she was pregnant with her daughter. She had made it to her parents the second time but had not had the courage to tell them what was happening before he had shown up, and he had never left her alone again for more than a day unless Damson had been present. But now! Now Frederick was gone, on an extended trip, leaving her truly alone for the first time in years.

  She had to plan carefully. She could not go to her parents or friends in the area. He would certainly find her quickly as he had before. She needed to go somewhere he could not find her, and she knew the perfect place. Her sister, Evelyn, had recently remarried and was living in Scotland. She did not think that Hayes was yet aware of her new name or address. That would give her a start, plus Eve and her new husband had many residences in England and Scotland. She was sure they could find one remote enough for her to hide out in until she decided what to do.

  In a moment of wishful whimsy, Kitty pondered how the ship on which her sister’s first husband had traveled had gone down with few survivors, leaving Eve a widow. Accidents happened all the time.

  Somehow, she didn’t think she would be as lucky as that.

  No, marriage had not been everything she had hoped for or imagined. She hoped now Fate would take her side and allow her to leave it behind successfully.

  A light tapping drew Kitty from her thoughts. “Come,” she called, and Sung Li entered stealthily.

  “Missy, I have arranged for a hired carriage to come Sunday morning. Most of the servants will have the day off, so few will see us leave.”

  “Us?”

  “Yes, us, missy.” Her servant bowed. “For too many years I have watched your life and wondered what I can do, but nothing could change. Now, we have an opportunity to make change, and I will come with you.”

  A slow, grateful smile spread across her lips. “Thank you, Sung Li. Thank you.”

  “Where will we go, missy?”

  “England, I think,” she answered, “but first we will need to go to New York and see when a ship is available. That will give me time to tell my parents where I am going, though I must make sure not to tell them why.”

  Chapter 5

  Finally approaching Scotland

  Late May 1892

  This is where rash planning could land you, Kitty thought as a rough crofter’s wagon carried her, Hannah and Sung Li into Edinburgh at last. They had been forced to wait in New York almost a week before a steamliner had been available to transport them to Southampton, the first available port in the whole of Britain. Finally docking there weeks later, after stopovers in the Bahamas and Ireland, she’d gone first to her sister’s closest home in Dorset, hoping her sister might be in residence. The housekeeper had informed her the countess was in Scotland as she’d originally thought.

  More problems had arisen when her purse was stolen on the post chaise to London where they had been planning to catch the train to Aberdeen. Since most of her ready money had been in that purse, she’d been forced to purchase third class tickets on the northbound train. It was a horrendous eleven-hour trip to Aberdeen and, by that mid-point on their journey, Hannah was irritable, cried and whined inconsolably. The third-class car was simply awful, not even completely enclosed, allowing the weather and cold to overtake the passengers. It was also overcrowded, and the bench seats were uncomfortable. She’d not been able to sleep at all.

  As was common at that point, the train had been travelling at nearly seventy miles per hour to maintain the tight scheduling the railroad company demanded. Near Berwick-upon-Tweed, the locomotive ahead of theirs failed to slow for the gradient turn and several of the rear cars detached and rolled back on the track and into their train! Kerosene lamps in the wooden second- and third-class compartments shattered, causing fires and chaos. They had waited hours for rescue while dozens of people died from injuries and burns. Kitty knew they had been very lucky to escape with only minor injuries, but the rest of their luggage was lost, and they were left stranded near the wreckage.

  Sung Li finally walked the long distance to the closest hamlet at Eyemouth to wire Kitty’s sister for assistance and obtain a cart to take them the remaining fifty miles to Edinburgh. It had taken hours for him to return and when he finally did, with a driver and wagon, he explained there had been no telegraph office in Eyemouth to send a message to Eve and that it had taken so long to come back because the Scots could not understand him any better than he could understand them. It had taken Kitty herself almost ten minutes to explain to the man where she needed to go, and she’d had to promise him additional payment when they got there as she did not have enough funds remaining to induce him to make the trip.

  Through it all, Hannah cried, wailed and complained of her hunger.

  That was when it started to rain.

  And she hadn’t imagined things could get worse!

  Now they arrived in Edinburgh and it was already late in the evening. She was frustrated, muddy, tired, cold and extremely hungry. Her knock at the door of the townhouse of the Earl of Glenrothes went unanswered at such a late hour, though she pounded persistently with frustrated insistence. When a rumpled young footman finally opened the door, she was nearly ready to cry.

  “May I help you, miss?” the man asked warily, as he took in the woman before him in a torn and dirty dress, and the ancient Chinaman behind her holding a crying, soot-covered toddler.

  “I need to see my sister,” she told him, as she elbowed her way around him and into the warm foyer. “Also, please send someone to pay the driver for getting us here.”

  “Now see here, miss,” he grabbed her arm as she tried to pass, “you just can’t force your way in like this.”

  By this point in her life, Kitty had a strong dislike of being manhandled and fiercely pushed him away. “Don’t you touch me,” she snarled, and poked him in the chest with her finger. “You listen to me! I’m tired, hungry, I have been robbed, in a locomotive crash and rained upon. I cannot understand half of what anyone is saying to me and my daughter is hungry. You go get my sister, right now!”

  Chapter 6

  A ministering angel shall my sister be.

  ~ William Shakespeare from Hamlet

  Glenrothes House

  Carlton Terrace

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  Perhaps it was the intensity of the silence in the cozy sitting room where Evelyn MacKintosh was reading a book that made the slamming of the door and battery of voices below seem so loud. She was setting her book and tea on the side table and moving her sleeping son to the seat as a flurry of steps raced up the stairs. Rising, she opened the door just in time to meet her butler, Hobbes, with his hand raised to knock.

  “What is it, Hobbes?”

  “There seems to be a slight problem, my lady.” The old servant paused as if he did not know where to begin. “It appears we have unexpected company.”

  “Who is it?”

  “A young female person of uneven temperament with a small girl-child and, if I am not mistaken, an aged Chinaman.”

  “An aged…I’ll see to it…” Eve rushed down the hall, wishing her new husband were there as well. He had gone to his estate for a meeting with his steward and had not yet returned.

  “I can’t believe this country!” were the words Eve heard as she reac
hed the top of the stairs.

  She stood for a moment in the shadows and watched the late-night visitor pace the foyer at a ripping pace. Her muddy wet hair was disheveled and hanging from its coiffure at a precarious angle. Her face darkened with dirt and…soot? Her dress, once probably a very lovely yellow brocade, was torn and dirty and hanging limply to the ground. She was indeed in a temper, pacing as she was, and throwing her hands in the air. Fortunately, the countess could make out little of the stream of curses that were currently flowing from her lips.

  “Damn Scottish idiots,” she heard briefly. “Can’t speak one decent word of English at all! I end up on the side of the road, in the rain, with no way to get anywhere. Idiots! Every single one of them.”

  “Is that so?” Eve questioned mildly, as she descended the stairs.

  The words were soft but carried into the foyer as all eyes turned up to greet her. Two harassed looking footmen, one tiny old Chinaman holding a miraculously sleeping toddler, and one angry woman.

  Kitty turned her startled eyes to the stairs and gaped at her sister as she descended them. She looked like an angel, she thought. Her long hair was tied back simply at the nape of her neck. The gown she wore was a simple flowing brick-red silk with a stiff, white ruff collar and a low V-neckline that met at the button front. Her slender ivory arms were visible to her elbows as the force of the breeze caused by her rapid descent had pushed back the loose bell sleeves.

  She was probably the most regal looking woman that she’d ever seen, despite the informality of her apparel. Time had certainly changed her, and reversed their roles, for there was her sister looking like a paragon of Society while Kitty cursed like a dockhand.