by Iris Kelly
“And you never felt yourself to be in any danger?” Avery inquired.
“I suppose there was the potential for it. Perhaps it was the dullness of my recent life in Boston that makes me drawn to a bit of danger. But Flamin’ Annie is someone who actually inspires a bit of fear in others. A lot of them are actually afraid to get on my bad side.”
“Hmm. And what of Zachary Scott? What are your impressions of him?” Sebastian asked.
“He’s not nearly so villainous as I had anticipated. He speaks to me as if we were . . . peers. Equals. That is also something that was absent in Eastern society. Of course, I am benefitting from the strength of another woman’s reputation. Mr. Scott has a greedy business agenda and assumes the same of me. I would say that he is a somewhat exploitive, somewhat respectful partner. At least as far as I’m concerned.”
“Who is he not respectful to?” Sebastian asked.
“Well, obviously, he does quite a bit of peddling of female flesh. I suppose that was the most difficult part of this new environment to get used to. It’s all quite out in the open and taken for granted. And as Flamin’ Annie, I certainly couldn’t appear to have any objections. But some of them were so incredibly . . . young.”
“They will age quickly enough,” Sebastian noted quietly. “Did any of them seem ill-treated?”
“Not exactly. Sometimes, they would return from the back rooms a bit . . . flustered. And one of their friends would step in for a moment to calm their nerves. It is a dark element of that world, indeed. But, I’m afraid no one would consider it newsworthy.”
“Talk to them whenever you get the chance. They are in a position to see many things.”
“That’s a very good thought. I’m sure I can make it appear to be a natural, unplanned encounter.”
“I have no doubt that you have enough resilience and audacity to handle any situation that arises,” Sebastian said with sincere admiration.
Abigail looked away, blushing. To be flattered and admired as Flamin’ Annie was one thing. But now it was her true self being praised, and it was an exquisite novelty.
The rest of the evening was undeniably enjoyable, but Beatrice was still happy to see it come to an end. After Sebastian and Abigail had left (separately, of course), Beatrice couldn’t wait to discuss the subject that had been on her mind all evening.
“Avery. Did you see what I just saw?”
Avery had been away at work all day and then engaged in a sociable dinner for the past two hours. It was a fascinating and enjoyable evening, but he, too, was happy to see their guests finally depart. He drew his wife close.
“What you just saw?” he murmured absentmindedly.
“Avery! Did you see those two? It is just as you and Lewis discussed. They’re going to carry through with this nonsensical plan of marrying and living together as no more than cousins. And then after Mr. Knight’s inheritance is secured, just to go their separate ways or simply to remain employer and employee, but the compatibility, the admiration . . . have you ever seen two people more suited for a passionate attachment?”
That question received a warm kiss in reply.
“I meant, besides ourselves,” Beatrice amended, trying not to be pulled away from her point. “I would so dearly love Abigail to have the kind of happiness we do. But you know how much she loathes the idea of marriage. And your friend, Mr. Knight . . .”
“Sebastian is quite unmovable on that point. He has great things he wants to accomplish with his life.”
“So do you.”
“I could tell him that love gives a whole new invigorated purpose to career, but I think that love itself can make that argument far more effectively than I can.”
“So you think they are falling in love?” Beatrice asked hopefully.
“I think there’s great potential. And great resistance. They’d never admit it, would they—either one of them?”
“But at some point, the feelings become so powerful that you can’t fight against them. Darling, when did you start feeling that way? Do you remember?”
“I remember watching you descend the staircase of the Grand Hotel, and I could hardly breathe. The first conversation had me riveted. Within days, I was well and truly smitten.”
Beatrice chuckled. “I remember it very well. It was wonderful to know that you liked me so much. It made it very safe for me to allow my own feelings to grow when I was certain that you already cared about me. Avery! That’s it. That is what needs to happen.”
“What needs to happen?”
“Abigail will only allow herself to fall irretrievably in love if she knew that her feelings would be happily and joyfully received—if she knew that he was already in love with her, as I had the comfort of knowing with you.”
“But he would never . . .”
“Unless . . . he was able to succumb to his romantic impulses because of the certainty that her passion for him had already reached a fever pitch.”
“And how is he ever to have that assurance?”
“Because that is what you will tell him. That she revealed her feelings to me and is quite miserable over their platonic pact. But he mustn’t confront her—she would only feel humiliated.”
Avery’s jaw dropped, speechless.
Beatrice continued, “And I shall do the same with her. Let her know how ardently he admires her, how he longs to take her into his arms, and how he regrets the stupidity of their foolish plans for a loveless marriage. But he’s a proud man, and she mustn’t let him know that she’s been enlightened about his passion. How long do you think their resistance can withstand the irresistible power of being loved?”
“I spend a great deal of time around people who have broken the law. Accomplished liars. Yet, that is possibly the most devious and manipulative plot I have ever heard. . . Mrs. Martin, you will make an excellent politician’s wife.”
Beatrice was so delighted with her plan that she was happy to finally let Avery get as close as he pleased.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was on the pretext of a chess match that Avery was able to execute the deception. He had won their last game over a week ago and knew that Sebastian wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to even the score. So it was in the comfortable quiet of Avery’s law office that the ruse was first planted.
“Sebastian. You know that all your friends think that your plan for a brotherly marriage is very ill-advised.”
“It will satisfy my father, secure my inheritance, and is easily undone once it no longer serves our purpose,” Sebastian explained.
“Our purpose. That is the problem right there—when you assume Miss Norris and yourself share identical needs. But you are mistaken. Cruelly mistaken, if my wife is correct in her assessment.”
“Cruelly! What on earth is she referring to?”
“She has the highest regard for her friend, Abigail.”
“I’m not surprised to hear that. She’s an exceptional woman.”
“She is also in a state of confusion and regret. She readily accepted your odd proposal because she was so thoroughly disenchanted with the institution of marriage. But she did not anticipate what a great impression you were going to make on her.”
“Impression? What sort of impression?”
“She finds you intriguing—intelligent, articulate, ambitious, thoughtful, and possessing an appearance that apparently rates very favorably with the ladies. In short, she would rather be in your arms than in your employ. No, that’s not quite it. I think she has great enthusiasm for the newspaper life and would like to remain in it. But she now has sore misgivings about the marital terms she agreed to. It is a painful thing to have tender feelings for a man so unrequited.”
Sebastian was dumbstruck. “She confided this to your wife?”
“It is exactly what my wife told me,” Avery said, congratulating himself on the perfect truth of that particular lie.
“I am at a loss for words.”
“Do not worsen her discomfort. You mustn’t let
on that you know. It would only humiliate her.”
“Of course. Of course. No, I wouldn’t hurt her for the world. Now that I give it some thought, I think I did see something in her manner, in her eyes, that should have alerted me.”
Avery nodded sympathetically and turned his mind back to his next chess move, which at the moment was, by far, the less exciting of the games in play.
Later that night, Sebastian wandered through his small home with a new eye. He had already started to clear out his second bedroom for Abigail’s use after the wedding ceremony. Would she lie there night after night in tears, feeling rejected and unwanted?
But how could this have happened? He recalled the response to his ad that she had written from Boston. He had been rather shocked at the vehemence of her opposition to marriage, even while it suited his plan perfectly. It did cause him to wonder how unfit and unfeeling her former husband must have been. What a shame, for she clearly deserved the best of treatment. And what a tragedy that she should have become so attached to a man like himself who had no room for a true marriage in his life.
He must be gentle with her. Perhaps reveal a few flaws to help loosen his hold on her. Surely, there was no shortage of men in this town who would be overjoyed to have such a wife. The problem was that with all the time she was spending at the saloon, she was only going to be exposed to the worst element in town. Of course, his own virtues would only shine more brightly in comparison. Poor woman.
*****
Beatrice wasted no time in enlisting Molly into the scheme. Keeping in mind that Flamin’ Annie could not openly socialize with them without raising questions, they rendezvoused at Miss Mabel’s parlor. While Miss Mabel occupied herself with darning a pile of socks nearby, Abigail demonstrated the game of Faro for the other two. Their interest in the game was, in fact, genuine, particularly in light of the bounty that Abigail had just extracted.
“I can’t believe there’s that much money to be won in gambling,” Molly marveled. “If I had known, I suppose I would have given it a try.”
“The victories are by no means certain,” Abigail cautioned. “The easier the game is to learn, the more you are likely to lose at it. It might take me several weeks to impart to you what I know of Seven Card Stud or Five Card Draw. But those are games where good decisions and concentration will typically decide the winner. Though even they can be subverted by chance.”
“Ain’t no call for either one of you two to take up gamblin’ now you got good husbands to look out for ya. Deputies don’t make that much that you can afford to be throwin’ away my nephew’s money,” she said to Molly. “And you, Missy, have got yourself a hoity reputation to protect now—all them political connections that husband of yours is tryin’ to make. No, you two best stay away from gamblin’.”
“I, on the other hand, have no such sanctuary,” Abigail said. “And as generous and sincere as Mr. Knight has been in offering some future security, I feel much better with something in the bank besides promises. Thus far, my income as a cardsharp has exceeded my newspaper stipend by a ratio of twenty to one.”
“Well, Mr. Knight would certainly never leave you in the lurch. Not . . . now,” Beatrice said.
“No, not now,” Molly echoed knowingly.
“What do you mean, not now?” Abigail wondered.
Beatrice and Molly exchanged their best efforts at looks of guilty dismay.
“Don’t you think she ought to be told for his sake?” Molly asked.
“Perhaps you’re right. He’s a fine, upstanding gentleman and a good friend of Avery’s. We should both hate to see him devastated.”
“Devastated? By what?”
And so the female half of the deception was spun. Abigail listened in stunned disbelief as Beatrice detailed how mightily Sebastian had to struggle against his growing attachment to her. How lovely, and fascinating, and formidable he found her. How the thought of lying in bed with her in the next room was going to be certain torture for him.
“Not that you ever have anything to fear in that regard. Your marriage promise was dependent on the agreement of a platonic arrangement, and he would never go back on his word. But, he will suffer some anguish. It can’t be helped—unrequited passion is a painful state of affairs.”
“You’ll be kind to him, won’t you?” Molly asked. “After all, he hasn’t really done anything wrong except not being able to control his feelings.”
“Yes, you mustn’t confront him. He would be so embarrassed. It was all Avery could do to drag the truth out of him. We can safeguard his pride, if nothing else.”
Abigail shook her head in disbelief. “This is awful. He is my employer. We are supposed to marry and divorce as soon as we are able. And then, I had hoped to remain in his employ. It’s a wonderful job. For a man who . . . who truly seems to respect my abilities, and trusts me, and . . . listens to me. I can’t bear the thought of losing all that, but I wouldn’t be able to stay, would I? With him feeling as he does.”
Miss Mabel was also in a state of disbelief. “Tarnation! If I was thirty years younger, I’d run over there and marry him myself. A smart, successful fella who thinks the world of ya and is fallin’ in love with ya. And this is your idea of a catastrophe?”
“Abigail believes that marriage is always a bad deal for the wife. That she is owned and controlled, and her personality and dreams are completely stifled, and that we women are generally indoctrinated to make us accept this unacceptable state of servitude—that’s right, isn’t it, Abigail?”
“Well, that is quite a bit harsher than I would have put it.”
“It’s what you always told me in Boston, word for word.”
“Of course, I have witnessed numerous examples of marriages that even I would consider to be rather successful. With respectfulness, and freedom to express opinion, and . . . genuine affection. I won’t deny that other women have found what I didn’t really believe to exist. But I think they are rarities. Or perhaps, I am the rarity. Perhaps I am uniquely unfit for the wifely role. It fills me with dread. It is no reflection on Mr. Knight. If I ever were inclined to . . . but I am not! Never again.”
“Oh, I hear ya. I been through a bad marriage myself. You got some real gumption to get yourself outta that situation. I had to wait till mine was six feet under. And I was never in a hurry to put that weddin’ ring back on again. Things have worked out just fine for me. ’Course, I never had to turn down anyone as fine-lookin’ as that Mr. Knight.”
Beatrice and Molly tried not to smile. Miss Mabel was not in on their scheme, and yet she was offering perfect assistance. Abigail looked miserable. Everything was in place.
*****
Abigail had already decided to arrive at the saloon an hour earlier than usual. It would give her an opportunity to try and establish some kind of rapport with the prostitutes and to see if any useful information could be gleaned from them. Tonight, she also had the additional motive of needing to escape her own unsettling thoughts of this newly obtained insight into Mr. Knight’s heart.
How was she going to face him tomorrow? Would it be completely apparent that his secret had been disclosed to her? How was she going to go through with the phony marriage now, knowing that he wanted it to be real? Only a loud, distracting night of investigation and card-playing could give her a respite from those thoughts.
Zachary was out somewhere getting supper, which was great luck. Otherwise, he might have monopolized her time or his presence might have caused the girls to clam up. As it turned out, she was able to have good conversations with two of the girls, including one she had the greatest interest in—one of the youngest.
The first girl she met appeared to be in her mid-twenties. Her name was Sugarplum. It was a ridiculous name. On the other hand, Abigail had to keep in mind that she was supposed to be Flamin’ Annie. Women on the outskirts of good society had good reason to abandon their old identities and to make themselves virtually untraceable.
Thankfully, Sugarplum was just as
interested in becoming acquainted as Abigail was.
“How’d you learn how to play so good? You got brothers and such who learned you?”
Abigail had actually picked up most of her essentials from her parents’ servants, and later, from her fellow seamstresses. But that was not a good history for Flamin’ Annie.
“My father taught me all the games. The rest just came with practice.”
“I think you gotta be pretty smart to make as much money that way like you do. I sure wish someone had learned me when I was young. It’s a whole lot better way of gettin’ by. At least, it sure looks that way.”
For some people, a card sharp would be the dregs of society. For this young woman, it was a glamorous and respectable role, infinitely superior to the one she had fallen into.
“I’m enjoying myself, I will say that,” Abigail admitted. “Though there are highs and lows no matter which road you go down. Of course, yours can be a particularly difficult position. Is The Double Whiskey the only saloon you’ve ever been at?”
“Oh, no. I been workin’ for almost ten years now. This place is . . . well, it’s fine, I guess. Zach don’t share as much of the money with the girls as some places. Madame Cora lets her girls keep fifty-fifty and she pays for all the laundry. Zach gives us forty percent and we gotta take care of all the laundry and clothin’ expenses ourselves. It’s enough to save a little bit of money, but then, what are you gonna do with it? Where you gonna go?”
She shrugged helplessly. “It would just be to another place. And what’s the difference? I don’t have any family or friends ’sides the girls here. No, you did the real smart thing—learnin’ how to gamble and stayin’ out of the sportin’ life.”
One of the very young girls approaches. “Sugarplum, there’s a man at the bar who’s askin’ for you, special.”
“This here’s Angel. Angel, you know . . . Miss Norris,” Sugarplum said. “Everyone’s heard of you, ma’am.”
“Pleased to meet you, Angel. If you’re not busy, why don’t you stay here and keep me company for a few minutes while I wait for Mr. Scott to return?”
