Blackmailed, page 18
* * *
“Are we ready?” Phillip said.
“I think so,” Timothy replied. “Never know with these types of operations, though. If somebody lets something slip, we could have trouble.”
Phillip nodded and stared off as they sat together at Phillip’s kitchen table going over the last of the details. They’d be heading to a room they’d rented near the docks to change into disguises very soon.
Timothy was staring at him. “What?” Phillip asked.
“You can’t have your mind a million miles away while we do this. You’ll get us both killed,” Timothy said.
“Killed?” Sarah said as she walked down the two steps into the kitchen.
“Thought you were at Dolly’s this morning?” Phillip said.
“Forgot something here,” she said. “What is going on? Where is Eliza and Jenny? And Uncle Patrick?”
“He took them to the market.”
She turned to Timothy. “What is going on?”
He shook his head. “Not something I can talk about.”
“Because you’re worried one of you will be killed?” she whispered.
“It’s nothing to be concerned about, Sarah,” Phillip said.
“Nothing to be concerned about? Nothing to be concerned about? You are a fool, Phillip Brown. What will happen to this family if you are killed? Uncle is up there in years. What will happen to us?”
“Sarah, you’re getting upset over nothing,” Phillip said.
“Am I? If you think the thought of losing my brother and a man I ca—” She glanced at Timothy, her cheeks a brilliant red.
Both men watched her run out of the kitchen, and Timothy stood.
“Maybe I should talk to her,” he said.
“You just said no distractions. Let’s go.”
* * *
The two men arrived at the back stairs of the house where one of Timothy’s fellow officers had rented a room for them. He’d paid the rent to the landlord, delivered the cloth bag with their disguises, and given them the key. The building was located two blocks from the dock and the meeting room.
Phillip dumped the contents of the bag on the thin mattress. They both pulled on the clothes, and Phillip donned a gray-haired wig. He used some gray color he’d bought at a theater he’d passed many times on his way to the cannery to make his eyebrows match his hair. He stuffed his shirt with a pillow, pulled on an overlarge coat, and tapped a top hat on his head. He picked up the cane and limped around the room. He glanced in the mirror and thought he might get away with the disguise in front of Clement, if he was one of the men that came to rob them, although he doubted Clement would dirty his hands.
Timothy finished knotting a tie at his neck and pulled on a flat cap. He wore the checked pants typical of the flashy men he often arrested, with a dark jacket and vest. He looked exactly like who he was supposed to. Muscle for hire.
They climbed in a hired carriage waiting at the back door and traveled several blocks away from the docks before turning around and heading to the meeting place. They remained in the carriage once it had stopped, two men on the back, the driver, and he and Timothy inside. The driver tapped behind him on the carriage slide, the signal that Littleman was approaching. Timothy climbed down first, surveying the street. Phillip followed, taking his time, an old, crippled man, carrying a satchel in his left hand and limping along with his cane in his right. Phillip felt eyes on them both, and there certainly were; people across the street glanced at them and then hurried away, surely anticipating violence.
Phillip walked slowly, pulling one leg along, as if crippled, and held the satchel tight against his chest. The two men on the back of the carriage jumped down to follow, purposefully staying six or seven feet behind, enough to be separated from the men they were supposedly guarding. Phillip kept his head down, watching his steps on the cobblestones, and Timothy signaled with a few hand gestures that the gap in the buildings ahead of them was probably where they would get jumped. He thought about Virginia at that moment, about her smile and her kindness.
He heard a noise behind him and knew the two officers following had been attacked. Timothy shouted at their attackers and grabbed Phillip by the arm, hurrying him along.
“Clement’s regular men aren’t back there,” Timothy whispered as they went toward the meeting place. “They’ll be ahead.”
As predicted, Jeb and Duncan and two others Phillip had never seen before stepped in front of he and Timothy. Both men were holding pistols.
“Watch it, there, big boy,” Jeb said to Timothy as he began to put his hand under his coat. “No need for any more weapons.”
“Just give me the bag,” Duncan said and pointed at Phillip’s chest. “Give it up, old man, and nobody gets hurt.”
“No,” Phillip said. “No!”
“You want a bullet in the head instead? Just give me the bag.”
Phillip acted as if he were crying, tightening his grip on the satchel and dropping his cane to the ground. He tucked his free hand behind the satchel, got a grip on his gun, and shot Jeb in the leg. Duncan froze as he watched his partner drop to the ground, the man shouting in pain, his gun spinning away. The two other men hurried back between the buildings. Timothy had a hand on Duncan’s gun before he could react and quickly had him subdued. Two men from across the street broke away from the small crowd and grabbed Duncan by the arms.
Phillip looked at Duncan before he was dragged away. “We’ll see what you have to say about your boss when you’re heading to the gallows.”
Phillip looked up when he heard a voice from the crowd. Clement walked toward them, Virginia Wiest tight against his chest with one arm and a gun at her head with the other. Every nightmare that Phillip ever had was playing out before his eyes.
“I doubt he’ll be saying anything,” Clement said as he walked closer to the two men holding Duncan.
“I ain’t saying nothing, Mr. Clement!” Duncan shouted.
“That is very true,” Clement said. He moved the gun from Virginia’s head and shot Duncan in the chest.
There was a momentary stunned silence as Duncan slumped to the ground, the two officers still holding his arms. Bystanders ran away in every direction and Jeb was crying and trying to drag himself away. Phillip had his gun trained on Clement, but there was no clear shot without hitting Virginia.
“Lower the weapon, Brown. I should have known you were behind this little farce,” Clement said. “I wasn’t positive, of course, but I trust my instincts and stopped by to see Virginia just in case. She kindly agreed to come with me peaceably.”
Phillip dropped his gun to the ground, as did Timothy. Virginia’s face revealed nothing, but she did glance toward Irene Littleman, still slowly walking toward them.
“Let her go,” Phillip said. “Your fight is with me, not her.”
“I’m not a fool. Get out of my way so I can take care of poor Jeb there and be on my way. You have my word as a gentleman that Virginia will be released as soon as I am far enough away.”
“Your word as a gentleman? How ridiculous!” Phillip said, inching to his left to shield Jeb and keep Irene Littleman out of Clement’s line of vision. “You were never a gentleman, even with all your stolen valuables and your fancy parties.”
“Who are you to say who’s a gentleman and who’s not! I’m not elbow-deep in oysters every day, working alongside the dregs of this city!”
Phillip moved one more inch to his left. “Dregs of the city! You just shot your own man! You’re no gentleman and never will be!”
Clement aimed his gun in Phillip’s direction, gesturing wildly. “You’re scum, you’re—”
But the end of the sentence was lost in Irene Littleman’s gun’s report as well as a good portion of Clement’s skull. Virginia screamed as she was dragged to the ground by the dead man. Phillip pulled her away from the awful sight that was Horatio Clement and held her close. There was shouting from the police and bystanders and movement all around them, but neither moved.
He glanced down the street, but Littleman and her men were already gone, other than the big hulking one, Thomas, who tipped his hat before he turned to follow his mistress. Phillip didn’t think the gesture was for him, but rather for the unshakable woman in his arms.
Chapter 20
Virginia had not seen or spoken to Phillip for nearly two weeks following Clement’s death. His arms around her as she shook with terror that day in the street by the dock were the last contact they’d had of any kind. She’d been interviewed by the Baltimore police and a Pinkerton agent and slept sporadically since then. She’d repeated how Clement had lured her out of Shellington with poor little Beth Shugars, whose mother apologized for days for her daughter’s part in Virginia being captured by Clement. There were tears and apologies and thanks for the safe haven that the Wiests had provided.
There was a desperation around the thought of never seeing Phillip again. She was not sure how to accustom herself to the loss of him, to move on and find meaning in her charity work, as the mistress of Shellington, and as an unwed woman in social circles. She sat down at her place in the dining room with her father, whom she’d feared would faint or have some kind of attack when she’d finally told him what all had occurred. He had cried, though, and held her close, kissed her hair, and told her that he loved her more than life.
“How are you this evening, Father?”
“Well. I am well,” he said and cut the roast beef on his plate. “Did you know that Mrs. Shugars was raised in a rather well-to-do home? And that her family did not approve of Mr. Shugars, and when he died, they would not help her with money or a home. What a pity. Such a lovely woman.”
Virginia looked up at her father as he continued talking about Mrs. Shugars and her children, how gracious, well mannered, and intelligent they all were. How it was a shame she was reduced to scrubbing pots and pans.
“I think I’ve found a place for her as a housekeeper, actually,” Virginia said. “I spoke to her, and she clearly has the skills necessary.”
“A place? A place where?” he asked.
“With the Gregsons. Mrs. Gregson and I are on several charity boards together, and she was saying recently her housekeeper was talking about retiring. I spoke to Mrs. Shugars, and she seemed very interested.”
“Away from Shellington, with the children just settling into that neighborhood school run by the nuns?” He frowned. “Seems like she would want to stay here. I got the impression she liked it here.”
“I think she does like it here. Especially after living the way she has the last few years.”
“I think she should stay here. I intend to tell her so.”
“You seem rather adamant, Father. While always kind, you rarely take too much interest in the details about the staff.”
He threw his napkin on the table beside his plate. “Well, I am about this one.”
Several long silent moments followed. “Have you been chatting often with Mrs. Shugars in the last few weeks?”
He nodded. “She’s an interesting woman.”
“She is and especially attractive now that her clothes are clean and new. She was frightfully thin when I brought her here, but she’s looking healthier as of late.”
“She’s a very handsome woman,” he said and rose from his seat. One of the attendants hurried forward to help with his chair. Father looked at the two young men. “We’ll see to the rest on our own. Thank you.”
The door closed on the men, and she and her father were alone, although he was pacing. “Is there something you wish to discuss with me?”
He turned to her, his eyes brimming. “I loved your mother. Still love her and will to the day I die. But I don’t think she’d want me to be lonely, do you?”
Virginia shook her head. “Of course, not. She loved you dearly and would want you to be happy, and she’s been gone twelve years. Does Mrs. Shugars make you happy? Less lonely?”
He nodded and looked away. “I don’t want to be disrespectful to your mother’s memory, but I think I’d like to, perhaps, maybe . . .”
“Get to know Mrs. Shugars a bit better?”
“Yes. That’s what I’d like to do. As long as you’re not upset by it, or even embarrassed that your old father is thinking about a lady. And one fifteen years his junior.”
“More than anything, I want you to be happy. I think Mrs. Shugars is lovely and worth your interest.”
He wiped his eyes and looked at her sheepishly. “We never know when the good Lord will take us from this earth. I don’t want to have any regrets or have missed pursuing any possibilities when I meet my Maker. Sometimes love requires us to humble ourselves in order to flourish. Sometimes it requires us to be bold.”
“How true,” she whispered.
“Mrs. Shugars should be finished in the kitchens by now and helping her children with their schoolwork. I do so enjoy seeing them learn. Perhaps I will just go out to the garden, where they often sit on a nice evening.” He smiled and went to the door. “But, Virginia, I don’t want anything to be awkward with the other staff. They are all so loyal and have been here for decades. I don’t . . .”
“Father, I will take care of any questions the staff have. Now you’d best go if you want to check arithmetic,” she said and smiled.
“Yes, yes,” he said and hurried away with a purpose she hadn’t seen in him for ages.
* * *
Virginia woke the following morning with a sure intent in mind after having thought about what her father had said over dinner late into the night. Sometimes love requires us to humble ourselves in order to flourish. Sometimes it requires us to be bold.
She dressed in a favorite dress that complemented her coloring and let Colleen fix her hair in large curls pulled together at the back of her head. The yellow gown, embroidered with tiny green leaves at the hem, neckline, and short cuffs, brought out red highlights in her hair. She wore a pair of matching gloves and a short coat in green. She splashed her lily fragrance on her wrists and neck and considered herself ready to face him.
Mr. Turnbull was waiting with the carriage when Mr. Smith opened the door. He was helping her up the steps when she heard someone calling her name.
“Miss Wiest?” Phillip asked as he trotted up the shell-covered drive. “Am I interrupting an appointment?”
“No. No, you are not,” she said as Mr. Smith turned back to the house.
“I’d like to speak to you if you have time,” he said, turning his hat in his hands.
She smiled. “I was on my way to Wolfe Street to see you.”
“Were you, Virginia? How fortuitous.”
* * *
Phillip followed Virginia into Shellington, thinking of the last words he’d said to her and feeling the shame and desperation of them as if he’d said them at that very moment. I can’t love you and be terrified for you every time you get an idea in your head. I can’t. How foolish he’d been to act as if his love could begin or end because of some internal debate on his part. His love just was.
Smith glanced at Virginia and closed the door on the two of them in the sitting room where Phillip had held her until she slept after the ruckus and threats at the Minehew barn dance. Virginia seated herself on the long sofa and he sat for only a moment on the chair opposite her.
“May I join you?” he asked. She nodded, and he sat down next to her, so close that her skirts, pale yellow with little green leaves embroidered on them, touched his pant leg. He picked up her hand and folded his fingers between hers. He cleared his throat, trying to remember what he’d rehearsed. He could think of nothing except how her hand fit in his.
“I’m sorry, Virginia. I should have never said I can’t love you. It was unkind and . . .”
“And what, Phillip?” she whispered.
“Not true. It’s not true that I can’t love you.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ve been worried that I’d never see you again and I couldn’t bear it.”
He glanced at her and smiled. “Even when I shout at you? When I get frustrated and worried?”
“Especially then.”
“Nobody likes to be shouted at.” He looked away.
She pulled Phillip’s hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “When you are shouting, it’s because you’re worried about me.”
“I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
“I feel the same. If I can help keep you safe, I’ll aways do what I can. It’s the nature of love, don’t you think, Phillip?”
He nodded. “But the idea of those men putting their hands on you makes me want to strangle someone.”
Virginia smiled at him as if she had unlocked the keys to the mysteries of the universe. “I guess the only question remaining, then, is since you can love me, do you?” she whispered.
He touched her chin with his thumb and pressed his lips to hers. “Here is your answer, Virginia.”
Afterword
Hello Readers!
Thank you for purchasing Blackmailed, the second book in The Browns of Butcher’s Hill series of historical mysteries.
My American set historical romance series are:
The Thompsons of Locust Street includes, The Bachelor’s Bride, followed by The Bareknuckle Groom, The Professor’s Lady, The Captain’s Woman, and The Earl’s Match. Meet the family who arrived from Scotland and took Philadelphia high society by storm.
The Crawford Family Series includes Train Station Bride, Contract to Wed, companion novella, The Maid’s Quarters, and Her Safe Harbor and tell the tales of three Boston sisters, heiresses to the family banking fortune.
The Gentry’s of Paradise chronicle the lives of Virginia horse breeders and begins with Beauregard and Eleanor Gentry’s story, set in 1842, in the prequel novella, Into the Evermore. The full-length novels are set in the 1870’s of the next generation of Gentrys and include For the Brave, For This Moment, and For Her Honor.
