The Daughters of Jim Farrell Page 5

  She reinserted the razor and was about to close the case when she saw a tattered edge of paper poking from the torn lining along the bottom. She stood a moment, fighting the urge to pull it out, then temptation got the better of her. The paper proved to be not one but five carefully folded news clippings. She scanned them quickly. One she recognized as Benjamin Banner’s piece on the killing of the Welshman, Morgan Powell, nearly two years ago, which he had credited to the Molly Maguires. Kate had always thought that as editor of the Miner’s Journal, Banner had done more than anyone, as this piece reflected, to tag the Mollies as villains, and often without proof. But what troubled her most was that his article had been written long before her telegram to Mr. Pinkerton.

  She didn’t recognize the author of the next clipping but as she read it, it seemed vaguely familiar. “The brutality of that secret organization known as the Molly Maguires cannot be understood by rational minds. If these criminals are allowed . . . .”

  “Find something interesting?”

  The sudden sharp voice made her jump. She turned to find Joshua Adams standing in the doorway, his handsome face taut, his eyes clouded by anger. At once she crumpled the clippings and tried to stuff them back into their place but the wad was too thick. Without a word Joshua walked over and took both clippings and case from her hands.

  “I . . . know how this looks. I didn’t mean to violate your privacy. I . . . .”

  “No? What then?” He piled the clippings on top of the razors, closed the case, and placed it on the desk. But his hand remained, and his fingers tapped against the leather.

  Kate felt her cheeks burn, felt perspiration dot her forehead. “Well . . . obviously I did violate your privacy, and I’m sorry. And nothing I say can justify it. You would be correct in calling me any number of unflattering names. But since the deed is done I’ll not pretend I’m unconcerned by what I found. You had several clippings concealed in your case, a case not designed to carry papers, and all of them about Molly Maguire activity in this region, and all dated well before I contacted your agency.”

  “And your point is?” Joshua’s blue eyes looked as hard as one of Mother’s metal pots.

  “It raises the question of you having divided interests. It forces me to ask whether you are here to solve my father’s case or for some other purpose. And I will not leave this room, sir, until you have given me a satisfactory answer.”

  “I suppose you have the grit and stubbornness to carry out your threat, but I cannot give you that answer. There’s more at stake here than you realize.”

  “And that is answer enough. It tells me I was correct in my assumption. And my response to you, Mr. Adams, is that you are discharged! Your services will no longer be required. You will please leave this house at once.”

  Kate stood with hands on her hips expecting him to heed her command, but to her surprise he just stood there, defiantly. “You are discharged, Mr. Adams!” she repeated.

  “That is impossible since I’ve already told everyone in town I’m your cousin.”

  “What is that to me? Relatives come and go. No one will think twice about you leaving.”

  “You . . . don’t understand. It’s my cover. I cannot change it now.”

  “Speak plainly, sir.”

  “You are asking me to reveal information I am not authorized to reveal.”

  “Then we are at an impasse. Someone must yield. And since you are standing in my house, it will not be me.”

  Joshua Adams turned and walked to the bedroom door then closed it.

  “Mr. Adams! That is highly improper! Please open . . . .”

  “You have nothing to fear from me, Miss Kate. But no one must overhear. And what I’m about to say must be kept in strictest confidence. Not even your mother or sisters can know.”

  “I hardly think . . . .”

  “Give me your pledge or I will be unable to continue.”

  “It . . . seems highly irregular but I suppose . . . if it’s necessary . . . all right, you have it. Now tell me what this is about.”

  “Recently, the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad hired Alan Pinkerton to investigate the activities of the Molly Maguires due to the increased incidences of sabotage at their mines.”

  “What! Are you telling me you work for Franklin B. Gowen!”

  “Yes.”

  “Does that mean the reason you took my father’s case was to provide a cover for your true purpose?”

  “Yes . . . but that doesn’t mean I didn’t intend to help you. Because I did. I do. I’ll investigate your father’s case as well as fulfill my primary assignment.”

  “And what if that’s not good enough? What if I don’t want someone who will spend but a few spare moments of his time on my case? What if I just send you away and tell everyone who you really are?” To her surprise, the detective grabbed her shoulders and leaned so close Kate was able to clearly see the tiny freckle at the corner of his mouth.

  “You mustn’t do that. The Mollies can’t know they’re being investigated. We have . . . we have a man inside, someone who has infiltrated their organization. If they get wind of Mr. Gowen’s investigation they could scrutinize all those new in their ranks and uncover our mole. A life could be lost.”

  Kate shook off his hold. “That’s a harsh dilemma you offer, and I resent it, Mr. Adams!”

  “Let’s not be foolish. Let calm reason prevail. We can help each other. You need assistance in clearing your father’s name, and I need a cover that will enable me to move about freely. What do you say?”

  “You try my patience, sir, but no, I will not reveal your secret. And perhaps you can do some good regarding my father. However, as of today, I will no longer pay you a wage, and you will be charged room and board. Even so, one question remains. How do I know I can trust you?”

  Joshua Adams glanced at his razor case. “I think the better question is, how do I know I can trust you?”

  CHAPTER 3

  Charlotte reached for the brass knocker on the massive glass and mahogany door. She was grateful Mother had let her come. And surprised. Perhaps Mother had seen how much it meant to her. And though their boardinghouse was upside down from spring cleaning, Mother had even helped fix her hair. Charlotte felt a sudden pang of guilt for leaving her sisters to the arduous task of whitewashing walls and dry rubbing wooden floors, but the feeling was quickly overshadowed by her excitement at having been invited to the Gaylord mansion for tea.

  Her hand lifted the knocker, and with more force than necessary, struck it against the brass plate. Though the invitation was for low tea at four o’clock and not the more prestigious high tea that took place an hour later and was often accompanied by a meal, Charlotte was gratified nonetheless. She was sure this invitation proved that all her suspicions concerning Mrs. Gaylord were unfounded, and that she had quite misunderstood Mrs. Gaylord’s feelings toward her.

  The door was opened by a man Charlotte had never seen. He ushered her into the spacious best parlor, where Mrs. Gaylord was seated on a red velvet chair. Positioned nearby was a tea table covered with a lace cloth and arrayed with a sterling silver tea set and two exquisite gold rimmed tea cups. Nestled in-between was a gold rimmed plate mounded with buttered bread.

  Mrs. Gaylord gestured for Charlotte to take the chair beside her. “You look lovely, my dear.”

  Charlotte glided her hand across the pearls around her neck seeking to direct Mrs. Gaylord’s attention to the fact she was wearing Benjamin’s recent gift. “Thank you. And thank you for your gracious invitation.”

  “I did want us to visit before the preparations for my trip to England entangled me.” Mrs. Gaylord poured tea with white-gloved hands then handed the cup to Charlotte.

  A feeling of guilt overcame Charlotte again, this time for thinking so ill of Mrs. Gaylord. Oh, how one’s imagination can become as rabid as a dog! She smiled a warm, peni
tent smile as she helped herself to one of the rolled slices of bread Mrs. Gaylord offered her. “I see you have a new doorman.”

  “Good help is so hard to find these days. I’ve put up with Alfred for far too long. I hope this new man will not be a disappointment. These constant problems with the servants weary me so. Why, only yesterday I found the upstairs maid applying some of my perfume behind her ears. Imagine! I fear I’ll have to deal with her, too, once I return from England. I don’t suppose you know of anyone suitable?” Mrs. Gaylord shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t. Still . . . I suppose neither one of your sisters is available or looking for work?”

  Charlotte nearly dropped her cup. “Mrs. Gaylord, I hardly think . . . .”

  “I’m looking forward to our trip. I think it will be good to get away. For Benjamin, especially. We’re rarely able to socialize with truly cultured people. And dear Benjamin is so bored with the plebeian society here. It will be so gratifying to see our English cousins again. Fourth cousins, actually, but utterly charming, especially Abigail who is only a year younger than my son. They’ve insisted we stay with them while we are abroad.”

  “Oh? I . . . don’t believe he ever mentioned his cousin to me.”

  “I can’t imagine why. Abigail is not only a young woman of means, but of breeding, too. And from a family of breeding. Not like some distant relatives one finds crawling around on his family tree. And so accomplished! As well as beautiful.” Mrs. Gaylord placed her half-eaten bread on the tea saucer. “Actually, she’s quite beautiful. I understand she has planned a plethora of parties and outings for Benjamin. And he will be a most eager participant, I assure you.”

  Charlotte drained her cup, placed it on the tea table, then rose, grateful that the long skirt of her dress concealed her trembling legs. “It was most gracious of you to take time from your busy schedule and show such hospitality.”

  “A pleasure, my dear. I wanted to say ‘good-bye’ before our trip. I do hope you won’t spend the time we are away moping about. You are young, and . . . somewhat attractive. We shall be gone quite some time and I suggest you find enjoyment where you can. I’m sure very soon you’ll forget about us completely. I find that is common among women in certain circles—their ability to transition from one alliance to another, seizing upon whatever promising opportunities come along. At any rate, I’m glad for this visit. I hope it has brought about a better understanding between us.”

  Charlotte jutted her chin. “I believe I understand you quite well. But I wonder if Benjamin does.”

  When she saw Mrs. Gaylord’s face go white, Charlotte turned and, without being escorted to the door, exited the mansion.

  Virginia hadn’t expected the position of packer to be filled. She had gone to the Pottsville mill to talk to the foreman soon after deciding to apply for the job and was met with the crushing news that a woman had been hired only an hour before. And though Virginia had been scouring the Chronicle for the past several days, she had found nothing remotely suitable. Then, during the flurry of spring cleaning, just as she was washing down all the bedsteads with brown soap, a new idea emerged. The answer had been there all along. She knew how to run a house, the appropriate time to strip a room of furniture or take down bedsteads, how to removed tacks and carpeting before dry rubbing a floor, how to fold and pack curtains with camphor or tobacco, how to mix white sap and wax for polishing a table and so much more. In short, she was more than a competent domestic. She could hire herself out, and with her skills, receive a decent wage. And despite her name, maybe there were still those who would be willing to enlist her services. But one couldn’t just go knocking on doors. She’d have to approach this properly.

  She removed her soiled apron and climbed the steps to the second floor, then entered the converted sitting room which now served as bedroom for both her and Charlotte.

  She filled the basin then washed her hands and face. It had been a long day. Still, the three of them, she and Mother and Kate, had managed to finish all the floors even without Charlotte’s help. Now, there only remained the dinner to prepare, and of course the dishes afterward. But tonight, while she and her family sat in their back parlor, she would broach the subject of her wanting to seek employment. She imagined Charlotte would object, but Virginia would have to change that somehow since she needed her sister’s help. And as Virginia dried her face and began thinking about the best argument to use, she heard Charlotte’s footsteps behind her.

  “Did you have a pleasant time at tea?” Virginia said, turning toward the door.

  “Yes, quite.”

  Virginia frowned when she saw Charlotte’s strained face and how she removed her gloves and tossed them on the nearby table. Charlotte normally wrapped them carefully in paper immediately after each use. “We were able to finish all the floors, so tomorrow we’ll wax furniture—one of the few chores you don’t seem to mind.

  “And speaking of chores . . . I . . . was going to wait and discuss this with you later, but maybe it’s best I tell you now so you can get used to the idea and not be so shocked when I tell the others. The thing is . . . I need a job. How else am I ever to have enough money for my newspaper? I applied for the opening at the mill but was too late. And judging by the Chronicle there’s no other work to be had for miles. Not for a woman, anyway.”

  Virginia slipped on a clean apron then sat on the bed. As Charlotte pulled a day dress over her head, Virginia noticed her sister’s tea gown sprawled across the other bed. Not like Charlotte, who was usually so fussy with her things, to be so careless with one of her good dresses. “Is something wrong? You seem distracted. Would you prefer I wait until we are all together and . . . .”

  “No. I’m fine. Just . . . tired. Finish what you were saying.”

  “Well . . . as I mentioned, jobs are scarce. But with your help, I think I can solve my dilemma. You still have connections with many of the more affluent families in our area. I’m considering . . . no, what I’m planning on doing is hire myself out as a domestic, and . . . .”

  “You cannot be serious!” Charlotte’s hands trembled as she secured the little horn-buttons of her high collar. “Have you no pride? Do you want to disgrace us all?”

  “It’s an honest trade! And I’m not ashamed to do honest work. I have dreams . . . plans . . . and I’m willing to work hard to make them happen.”

  “You cannot do this! Please, Virginia.” Charlotte walked over to the small side table and picked up her pearl necklace. “Take these.” She stretched out her hand. “Take anything of mine you want. Use it and whatever else you think is worth something to buy that press you’ve been talking about, but please, please don’t hire yourself out.”

  “I . . . could never take your pearls or anything else of yours. But why does this upset you so? I know you feel you have a position to maintain because of your engagement to Benjamin but . . . .”

  “I could never face the Gaylords if you did this!” Charlotte’s hand remained outstretched. “Never! For my sake, for my future happiness sake, please don’t do this.”

  Virginia rose and walked over to Charlotte. With her handkerchief, she gently blotted the tears that were sliding down her sister’s cheeks. “All right, dear. It’s all right. Don’t cry. If it means that much to you I’ll find another way to earn money.”

  “Mr. Adams has information concerning Father’s case,” Kate said, addressing her sisters and hoping that what he had to share would vindicate him in their eyes. She directed him to the high back chair near the fireplace where a single log, the last of the season, crackled softly.

  He was bareheaded; his blond, wavy hair looking as though he had been caught in a windstorm. His clothes were also untidy: a wrinkled single-breasted jacket of coarse brown flannel sported several chipped horn-buttons; and matching trousers, that were woefully too short, skirted the top of his scuffed black ankle boots.

  Though the outfit was a masquerade, it m
ade Kate cringe as she glanced at Charlotte. “Mr. Adams asked me earlier if he could meet with us after dinner.”

  At once, Virginia put aside her sewing while Charlotte looked pained, as though Kate had just said Jasper Wright, the dentist, was coming to extract one of her teeth.

  “May I proceed, Miss Kate, or should I wait for your mother?”

  “Mother will not be joining us.”

  “Very well, but please convey my information. Let her know that I’ve received a note from one of the workers at the Mattson Colliery; someone who claims to have useful information. For the past several days I’ve been visiting the collieries around Pottsville asking about the night Roger Blakely was killed.” He turned to Kate. “I told them I’d make it worth their while if they shared any information they had.”

  At once Kate felt annoyed. What right did he have to offer anything without consulting her? “Just what did you promise?”

  “A day’s wages.”

  “Oh, Mr. Adams, we hardly have money for that!” wailed Charlotte. “We had to pool all our resources just to hire you.”

  “Don’t worry, I have enough.” Kate knew this statement would satisfy Charlotte, who was ever eager to insulate herself from their financial woes. But what of Virginia? Her nature was to be curious; to inquire until satisfied. And Kate could hardly tell Virginia that she still had almost all the funds they had pooled; and that in addition to collecting money for his room and board, which she planned to give Mother after this whole unpleasant business was over, she wouldn’t be paying Mr. Adams another cent for his services. But she couldn’t stomach another lie. Not another lie.