Page 21 of Blackmailed (The Browns of Butcher’s Hill #2)

S arah Brown took the folded note from Dolly Irving.

“I think you shouldn’t be here anymore until this is straightened out,” the woman said, staring down at her hands.

“You’re firing me?”

“Read the note. I don’t know what choice I have. I’m a woman alone.”

Sarah opened the note. Don’t be talking to the Browns anymore. You’ll be sorry if you do.

“They’re trying to scare you, Dolly,” Sarah said. “But if you would feel better, I’ll stop coming here until Colfax’s killer is caught.”

“It won’t make me feel better. You manage to sell extras like gloves and stockings better than I’ve ever been able to.

But you’ve got to understand,” Dolly said and took hold of Sarah’s hands.

“I don’t sleep at night. I’m half-afraid to go to the grocer’s.

I have trouble thinking about a new fashion or style to introduce because I don’t think I’m long for this world. ”

Sarah turned as the bell tinkled over the door.

“Hello!” Colleen Hughes said.

“Hello, Colleen! I think your dresses are ready. Let me check. You may need to try them on for a final adjustment,” Sarah said and invited her into the back fitting room.

Virginia Wiest smiled at Dolly Irving. “Hello. Miss Hughes is in my employ, and I’ve been wanting to meet you ever since we heard about your troubles.” She glanced around the showroom’s mannequins and fabric displays, noting there were no other customers at the time. “You have a lovely store.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Virginia Wiest, Mrs. Irving.”

“Sarah has mentioned you. You’ve helped her brother solve a mystery on occasion.”

“I have. Although I’ve not had anything to do with solving who shot that unfortunate Mr. Colfax.”

“I don’t know that he was unfortunate. I think rather he got caught cheating someone. I should have never gotten involved with his . . . activities. But you see—” She stopped herself short. “May I show you some trimmings I’ve just received?”

“Miss Hughes told me that you have a daughter,” she said and laid her hand on the woman’s. “I would never reveal anyone’s personal business. Miss Hughes only told me because I asked her if there was anything I could do to help you through these tumultuous times.”

“Do? What do you mean?”

“She said your brother and his wife care for your daughter and that he was hoping to get a new job as a bookkeeper.”

Mrs. Irving nodded. “He took the job when it was offered. But he has to leave his house before the sun is up, as it takes him that long to get there on his crutches. I don’t know what he’ll do in the winter weather.”

“Miss Hughes told me that as well. I spoke to my coachman about a situation such as this, and he said we have a gig he’d intended to get rid of.

I thought your brother might be able use it.

And one of our carriage horses he’d planned on sending out to a pasture farm.

The horse is sound but getting too old to haul our family’s big carriage.

He said he’d do fine for a jaunt with a small gig twice a day.

I’d be happy to send them both to your brother if you’d give me his address. ”

Virginia held her breath. The woman’s face was a misery of hope and pride.

Virginia tried to make these sorts of gifts feel like the recipient was helping out the Wiest family instead of the other way around, but it didn’t always work.

And Dolly Irving was no one’s fool, other than, perhaps, Cornelius Colfax’s.

“I can hardly believe it,” she whispered. “You would do that? I don’t have the money to pay you though for a gig, let alone a horse.”

Virginia shook her head. “You would be doing our coachman a favor as he needs the room in the carriage house and is always concerned how a horse will be treated at a pasture farm. This way he would know the horse would be with a family who would take care of it.”

“It is too good to be true.”

“Please, Mrs. Irving. Allow me to do this for our coachman and help you at the same time.”

Tears filled the woman’s eyes. “Let me write down his address.”

“That would be wonderful. My coachman will take care of everything. But you’d best mail your brother a letter so he knows to expect a visitor. “Do they have a barn or a stable of any kind?”

“They do, but it hasn’t been used since they began renting the house. He’ll have his work cut out for him to get it ready, but what a blessing,” she said.

Colleen appeared from the back room at that moment, box in hand.

“I can’t wait to see your new gowns,” Virginia said.

She and Colleen bid Mrs. Irving and Sarah Brown good day and climbed into the Wiest coach with the help of Mr. Turnbull.

She handed him the address. “You can deliver the gig and horse anytime, Mr. Turnbull. And please take enough money from the household account to buy feed and hay from the local grainer for the next several months.”

“Yes, miss. I’ll take care of it this week.”

Colleen looked at her once they were seated. “I thought she might refuse.”

Virginia smiled. “I think she almost did, but good sense prevailed.”

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Everly?” Phillip said shortly after arriving at work and being summoned to the upper floor where the cannery offices were.

“Come in. Hurry, Brown. Mr. Wiest is out with a prospective client.”

“What can I help you with, Mr. Everly?”

Everly motioned him closer and pointed at an open ledger book. “What is going on with your investigation of the thefts at my home?” he whispered.

“Still working on it.”

“Can’t you work faster?”

“I think we’ll have a break soon. Has something else happened?” Phillip asked and glanced at Everly.

“Whoever it is, they are getting bolder. A silver coffee service handed down in our family since it was purchased from the Revere Silver Shop of Boston with the maker’s mark on the bottom of each piece.”

Phillip stared at Everly. “Where in the house was that kept?”

“In the silver cupboard. The locked silver cupboard.”

“Who has a key?”

Everly looked at him and bared his teeth in a growl. “Jenkins, Mrs. Brandeis, myself, and my mother.”

Phillip nodded and stared at the man. “Is it possible a key could have found its way into another’s hands?”

Everly shook his head. “I don’t think so, but I can’t be certain. Jenkins and Mrs. Brandeis have been with us for years. Jenkins, in particular, has guarded the family’s name and reputation vigorously.”

“Let me make a few more inquiries, Mr. Everly, before we name any names.”

“You must get to the bottom of this, Brown. My household is in an uproar.”

Phillip received a note delivered by messenger to Wolfe Street from Mrs. Everly asking him to meet her at a coffee shop in her neighborhood. He wondered why she wanted to talk to him over the whole course of his work day.

Phillip left the cannery at his appointed time and went directly to the coffee shop Mrs. Everly had mentioned in her note.

He found a corner table and waited only a few minutes until he saw her at the door.

He stood as she looked around the busy shop haughtily.

She saw him and turned in his direction, stopping in front of him.

“How in the world does anyone hear their own conversation in the midst of all this ridiculous chatter?” she said, not bothering to lower her voice.

A few nearby customers looked up at her, a few scowls but mostly amusement on their faces. He helped her into the chair across from his.

“Where is the waiter?” she said and waved her arm.

“There are no waiters here, Mrs. Everly. I’ll go up to the counter and get you whatever you want.”

“Coffee, young man. I want coffee and a cookie of some kind, if there’s anything decent.”

Phillip made his way to the counter and ordered two coffees and an assortment of sweets.

“I’ll bring them over to you and your grandmother, sir,” the clerk said. “It’s hard to navigate through the crowd with a hot drink.”

Phillip thought about correcting the young man but decided against it, thanked him, and turned back to the table, where Mrs. Everly was scanning the room with distaste.

“They let just about anyone in here, I see,” she said. “No discrimination at all.”

He shook his head. “This shop is near the Baltimore City College and gets students and professors alike as well as the local shopkeepers.”

“I suppose that class of people enjoys their treats as much as their superiors. But do they have the income for this frivolity? Shouldn’t they be working somewhere? Earning their keep?”

“Mr. Everly works, ma’am.”

“You must know that is entirely different. Men of my acquaintance are directing the actions of our city and country in the highest echelons of business and our government, although my Altimus is honing his skills for when . . . a mutually satisfying event between the Everlys and the Wiests occur.”

Phillip smiled. He realized the impossibility of enlightening Mrs. Everly and wondered what Virginia would have to say about her prediction.

Mrs. Everly was a lost cause. She’d been the one to choose the location for the meeting.

She would never understand why her comments were without basis and why he chose not to comment any more.

“Can you tell me why you wanted to see me, Mrs. Everly?” he asked.

“I was wondering about a situation,” she said hesitantly.

“A situation?”

“A friend of mine’s situation, not mine, of course,” she said and looked directly at him while she lied. “I don’t know how to counsel this person and thought you may have some ideas.”

“About what subject?” he asked and sipped his coffee.

“This person has another person demanding payment to keep a bit of news quiet,” she said.

“Embarrassing news?”

“To some it would be embarrassing!” she replied.

“Blackmail. Blackmail is what you’re describing.”

“That’s such an ugly term.” Mrs. Everly leaned forward. “It implies a baseborn person, and I assure you this person is not.”

He nodded, wondering if he should confront her obvious misdirection or accept that she was speaking of herself but would never admit it, especially to him. He decided the latter was the easiest and maybe the most effective.

“Does this person know the person blackmailing them? A former friend or a sworn enemy?” he asked.

She nodded. “This person does indeed know the person who has so debased themselves by asking for money.”

“Does your friend have the necessary funds to pay this other person?”

“Not always!” she said sharply. “Sometimes she must resort to selling some of her possessions!”

“Terrible,” he said with a sympathetic shake of his head. “Just terrible.”

“Well? Do you have any advice?”

“The only way to stop a blackmailer is to stop paying them. Whatever this person was trying to conceal will come out eventually when they no longer have the means to pay. The blackmailer had no intention of guarding the secret but will do their best to stretch out the person’s fear and keep the payments coming. ”

Mrs. Everly’s face drained of its color. “You think it will come out regardless?” she whispered.

“I do. There is no loyalty. They wouldn’t be blackmailing that person if there were any.”

“Oh dear.”

“Mrs. Everly? Is there something else you’d like to tell me?”

She shook her head, making the black lace at her neck jiggle. “No. I must be getting home. Altimus expects me to join him for dinner.”

Phillip stood when she did and escorted her out the door and to the Everly carriage. Her coachman dropped the steps and held out his arm to help her inside.

“I’m happy to meet with you anytime, Mrs. Everly.”

She nodded in his direction after having taken her seat, and Phillip watched the carriage roll away. Now he needed to find out what skeletons there were in the Everly closet because he did not think this was only about her Thursday afternoon poker games.

Phillip knocked on the Shellington servants’ door not long after his meeting with Mrs. Everly. Mrs. Barkley opened the door.

“Mr. Brown! We haven’t seen you in a bit. I’ve got bread just out of the oven.”

“A slice of your bread would fix me right up. Do you know if Miss Wiest is in?”

“I don’t,” she said and turned to a young woman cutting potatoes. “Margaret, go tell Mr. Smith that Mr. Brown is asking for Miss Wiest.”

It was not long until Miss Wiest herself was in the kitchen. “Mr. Brown. Can I help you?”

“I’m hoping you can.”

“Come,” she said to him and stopped. “Mrs. Barkley? If that bread and butter is for Mr. Brown, can you send it up to my office with some tea?”

“Yes, miss.”

Phillip followed her up the steps and down a long carpeted hallway with large landscape paintings and tables with huge vases of flowers. She seated herself in a chair within a grouping of chairs and a sofa across from the two desks that sat facing each other.

“This is your office?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. I’m involved with several charities and act as my father’s hostess, so there’s a considerable amount of correspondence. Father and I share a personal secretary, Mr. Pointer, who is kept very busy with our schedules and obligations.”

“Mr. Pointer? Should I be jealous?”

She laughed softly and blushed. “Of course not.”

He smiled and wished he could kiss her in this fine, comfortable room. She was incredibly beautiful and as fragile as the sculpted glass figurine on the low table between them.

“I’ve come to ask a favor. Again.”

“Whatever I can do to help.”

“I don’t think Mrs. Everly is trying to keep her Thursday card games from being revealed to her son, and after your discovery of her winnings on those days, I know she’s not concerned about covering her losses.

I think there’s something she’s desperate to keep private, but I have no idea what it could be. ”

“Oh. Something in her past?”

He shrugged. “I really don’t know, but I thought maybe you would know some older matrons who might remember a scandal of some kind.”

“My Aunt Essie may know something. I’ll write to her, and there is another woman I often speak to at the Benevolent Society for Orphans who was a friend of my mother’s. She and my mother were contemporaries.”