Page 27 of Mrs. Victoria Buys A Brothel

C hapter 27

Remains

Mrs.Jackson herded them to her porch and served them hot tea. Natane sat next to Victoria and pressed their sides together.

“What are we supposed to do, now?” asked Siobhan.

“You should get some sleep,” said Mrs.Jackson. “I can house one of you, Hualing another, and—”

“We’re staying together,” said Victoria. The others nodded.

Mrs.Jackson sighed and walked back to the street. Victoria, dispassionately, watched her talk with Mrs.Zhao, Mrs.Horowitz, Mrs.Smith.

Mrs.Jackson returned. “Come,” she said, gently.

They were led to the barn. Already, men were piling hay in the corner and covering it with blankets.

They were brought water, food, and clothes. Their wounds were seen to. They changed, washed, and ate in silence. The girls huddled under the covers. Victoria pulled Natane as close as decency allowed and they breathed together until, finally, they fell asleep.

*

The next day proved difficult. The townspeople dug through whatever was left of the brothel, but little was recuperable. Their few possessions were ashes.

James went to Natane’s farm to take care of her animals, and came back with clothes. He had brought everything in the chest, among them a rough work shirt and a pair of jeans. Victoria changed from her borrowed clothes, a size too small, and was almost relieved at the now-familiar feel of denim. If the townspeople found it strange to see her walk around in men’s clothing, they did not say it to her face.

Sheriff Buckley was dead. They had finally removed his body from the dirty street. Victoria heard them argue if they should wait for the next visit from the priest to bury him, others said the Sheriff wasn’t Catholic anyway. She did not know how she was supposed to feel. The man had probably wanted to blackmail her, but he had also been killed trying to protect her girls. At this point, Victoria was too exhausted to think about it.

She went through the day in a daze, eating when they placed something in front of her, half-listening to what people said. She kept a constant eye on her girls. They never strayed far from her, quiet and subdued. And always, Natane was there, like a silent guardian at her side.

Victoria had had the beginning of an idea, of a plan, but she could not think, she could not think…

Help came from the strangest place.

“The piano,” someone came to tell her. “It survived the fire. Again.”

It soon became the talk of the town. The only wall of the brothel left standing was the one near the piano. The fire had never reached it, nor anything had fallen on it. Victoria watched them take it from the rubble and bring it back to the barn.

“Here, Mrs.Victoria,” they smiled. “You can still play.”

This was absurd, she thought. This was the most useless thing that could have survived. And yet.

She pressed a key, then another one.

“It needs to be tuned,” she said, breaking her silence for the first time that day.

They returned with the tuning hammer, the metal dirty with ashes. She felt ridiculous, and tired, and pointless.

And angry.

She focused on tuning the piano, note after discordant note. She ignored the others, the calls for her to sit, drink, or eat. People talked around her, trying to help. Mrs.Jackson and Mrs.Zhao came by, as did David and Paul. She saw James sitting on the floor, nearby. He did not seem to like the notes, flinching every time, but he stayed.

“It’s almost ready,” she told him. “Do you want to play?”

He shook his head, not meeting her eye.

“Then I’ll play.”

She sat and touched the keys. It was not perfect, she would need more time and a tuning fork to make it decent, but it would do. She started to play one of her pretty songs, a town’s favourite, to thank them.

But she could not keep the light tone the song required. Her hands became heavier, her rhythm harsher.

She grew angrier, and the music with her. The barn shook with furious melodies. Everyone could hear the rage boiling inside her.

Let them hear , she thought. She had lost her home, the home of her girls, she had lost the portrait of her son, her father’s bible, and her mother’s teacup. Let everyone hear her anger and her grief.

She played for hours, and once her fury had simmered down, her music became pensive. She went back to her idea, and soon enough, a plan formed inside her head. She thought of a dead man, of dead men, who would bother her no more. She thought about the town and her music engulfed them. She thought of her family and the things she was ready to do to grant them happiness.

She eventually stopped. The evening had fallen once again. The girls were sitting on the hay, waiting for her. Natane was nearby, always watching.

“I know what to do,” she said.

*

Sheriff Buckley was buried a week later. The town cemetery was a small plot of land near the barn; Victoria had never taken the time to visit before. Now, instead of listening to Deputy Rogers’s eulogy, she stared at the tombstones wearing familiar names.

Díaz , said one of the stones.

The service was short. People went back to their chores, and soon the small cemetery was left empty but for her and Natane. They walked together to Sebastian’s grave. There was nothing much. A name, a couple of dates. So little for a man that loomed so large.

“Do you come to see him?” she asked.

Natane touched the headstone with the tip of her fingers. “No. He’s not there, anyway.”

“Well, wherever he is, I owe him my life.” The gun now never left her side. “I owe him so much.”

“Hm,” said Natane, leaning against her. “It’s a shame you two never met.”

“We did, in a way. We both met you.” She leaned back. “I’m still going to bring flowers. What were his favourites?”

“Sunflowers.”

Victoria made sure to leave a bouquet before they left.

*

It was strange to make the trip to Salt Lake City with all of them. Their three covered wagons made their way through the Wyoming plains, the canvas flapping in the wind. She and Natane opened the cortege, followed by Consuelo, Paul, and Siobhan. At the rear, David and Lisette whispered all the way. It was nice, to have everyone close like that.

The second night, they paused at Rock Springs to see Belle Porter. Victoria left the girls on the first floor to catch up with their old colleagues, while she and Natane drank tea in Belle’s bureau.

“Finally,” she said, once Victoria had explained her plans. Belle was full of ideas and good advice.

It took them three more days to reach Salt Lake City. David left them at the outskirts of town to see his family. Victoria would visit Martha Jackson later, but first, she had things to deal with.

They entrusted the schooners to Paul and walked to the manor. The girls marveled at the growing city and the busy streets full of people. They were already impressed by the upper neighbourhoods, and gasped when she pointed at her house.

The butler opened, and stared.

“Good evening, Thomas,” she said.

“Mrs.Stanton!” he blurted, and the name felt like an old wound. “I wasn’t expecting you!”

“I came back from my retreat in nature,” she smiled, and entered her house. “I do feel better. We’ll be staying a couple of nights, please prepare rooms for my guests. And when you’re done, pack your things and leave.”

Thomas stood there, bewildered. “Mrs.Stanton?”

“It’s Montgomery,” she sneered. “Didn’t you hear? My husband is dead.” He did not seem surprised. “I see the news has already reached you. Well, I came back to put his affairs in order, clean up the place. I’m starting with you.”

She left him at the door and did not pay him another thought.

Victoria joined the girls in the main hallway. They huddled together, intimidated at the opulence of her house.

“Go crazy,” she told them with a grin.

They squealed and scampered in different directions. Soon, they were shouting their discoveries to each other.

“This room has three entire windows!”

“ Oh mon Dieu ! You need to see that china cabinet!”

“Hey, I read that green wallpaper had arsenic in it?”

Victoria found Natane at the bottom of the stairs, running her fingers on the handrail.

“Dearest?”

“Look at this varnish, it’s impeccable. And the colour… This is incredible work.”

Victoria sighed, enamoured. She would buy that silly woman a whole forest if she wanted to carve bannisters.

She leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You should see the dining-room chairs.”

Natane straightened up, her interest piqued.

*

The next morning, Victoria picked her darkest dress and wrapped a black shawl over her shoulders. She did her hair up, put on gloves, and grabbed her sun umbrella.

“Girls, you have free reign over my house,” she told them at breakfast.

“Can we snoop?” asked Siobhan.

“Please do.”

She and Natane walked to the bank. The doorman hesitated at letting Natane enter, and insisted she leave her rifle. She still cut an imposing figure, standing behind Victoria’s chair in the director’s office.

“Mrs.Stanton,” said the director, eyeing Natane nervously. “What a pleasant surprise.”

She sighed and pulled the shawl tighter around herself. “I wish it were, Mr. Fischer. But sad news reached me at my summer residence. My husband…” a hiccup. “Earl. He…” she trailed off.

The banker panicked at the possibility of having a crying woman in his office. He handed her his handkerchief, and she dabbed her eyes delicately. “It’s alright Mrs.Stanton, you don’t need to say more. We received the terrible news. You have my sincere condolences.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed. “You are a kind man.”

“Is there anything we can do for you?”

A sniffle. “Could… could you help me put his affairs in order? I’m afraid I don’t know much about all of this…”

“Don’t worry, Mrs.Stanton, we’ll have this sorted in no time.”

“Oh, thank you,” she smiled.

*

Two hours later, they were back at the manor, a handful of signed documents in their possession. She dropped everything on the table. The girls appeared from different rooms of the house, Lisette carrying a tray of tea. Victoria took her cup, mourning her mother’s porcelain set. Maybe, now that she had the time, she could locate more of her heirlooms in the cellar.

Once the cups were passed around, Siobhan waved a leather book in the air. “I found the accounts. Victoria, I knew you were rich, but you didn’t tell us you were rich , rich.”

“That’s mostly Earl. I don’t have access to his money, not even in death. Everything passes to my son, including this house.” At the girls’ sad faces, she continued. “The will was clear on the subject. But,” and then, she smiled, “I get my assets back.”

“How much?” asked Siobhan, looking frantically through the notebook.

“Hm, let’s see. I inherited my father’s company and several deeds, I think.”

“Found it. Huh, Victoria? You own a mine .”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do I? Well, that is a nice thing to know.”

She added some milk to her tea, the spoon clinking delicately. She raised her head to find all of them staring at her.

“Are you going to stay here?” asked Consuelo.

“What? Of course not. I could not live in this house again.” They all looked beautiful, filling the chairs that had been empty for so long, but this was her prison and could never be anything else. “I’ve barely spent a day but I already feel the walls closing in on me. And, after so long in Swainsburg, I fear I can’t stand the City’s noise anymore. No, I will go back with you all.”

She saw Natane’s shoulders drop in relief.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking, lately,” she went on. “About what I wished to do, from now on. I have some plans in mind, but first, I need to know what you all want.”

“What we want?” repeated Consuelo.

“Yes. What do you want to do, now that your funds are pretty much limitless?”

Lisette frowned. “Victoria, that’s your money.”

“And you are my family. My son inherits Earl’s belongings, it’s only fair my daughters inherit mine.”

Lisette burst into tears. Siobhan handed her a tea towel.

Victoria turned first to Consuelo, who was frowning at the distance.

“Pumpkin?”

“I want… nothing much, honestly.” She shrugged. “Do I have to pick something big?”

“You can choose anything.”

Consuelo added another cube of sugar to her cup. “I think I still want to marry Paul.”

“But you don’t have to, now,” said Siobhan.

Consuelo smiled. It was something soft and fragile, that felt new on her face. “I know. And I still want to marry him. It’s… It feels good.”

Victoria squeezed her hand. “Do you want a house?”

“Take the house,” pressed Siobhan.

Consuelo laughed. “I’ll take the house.”

Victoria turned to Siobhan. “And you, honey? What do you want most in life?”

Siobhan sat, silent, for a while. Then, she mumbled at the table. “I just want people to stop touching me.”

Victoria nodded. “You won’t have to do anything you don’t want to, now.”

Consuelo looked uneasy. “We keep hugging you. I’m sorry, we can stop if you want.”

Siobhan rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. You’re not people .”

“…Thank you? I guess?”

Victoria took a sip. “Is there anything else you want, honey?”

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

“All the time in the world.”

“Alright.” She breathed out, a weight leaving her shoulders. “Alright.”

They turned to Lisette, who was staring at her teacup.

“Sweetheart?”

“I want to go to Paris,” she said, resolute.

“Of course you do,” said Siobhan.

“With David,” she added.

At everyone’s silence, she finally raised her head. “We talked a lot, on the road. And, well. People in France aren’t as cruel as they are here, they even allow mixed marriages. We could be safe.”

“That’s an awfully big decision,” said Consuelo, skeptical. “You’ve only talked to each other a couple of times. Are you even sure you’re in love?”

“I don’t know. But don’t we deserve a chance to figure it out?”

Victoria rose to hug her. “You deserve everything you want, my sweet, sweet Lisette.”

Lisette hugged her back.

When Victoria was back on her seat, she finally turned to Natane.

“And you, my love? What can I give you that would make you happy?”

Natane looked around. “Can I have one of these chairs? The engraving is beautiful.”

Victoria blinked. “You can have all eight if you wish so.”

“I don’t think they’ll fit into our home. Maybe two.”

“What if you get company—” started Consuelo, but Victoria held a hand to stop her.

“…Our home?” she repeated.

Natane sat back up, a bit awkward. “I’ve also been making plans. I talked to Simone. I’m too old to take care of the farm anymore, and I’ve got no heirs. I asked her if she wanted the deed.”

“Oh,” said Consuelo. “If they have a farm, her husband won’t need to leave for the mines.”

Natane nodded. “And the children will have more space. There are only two bedrooms in her house. That’s enough for me.” She turned to Victoria. “And. And for you. If you want to.”

Victoria covered her mouth to keep in a wave of emotion.

“Oh, look at the time,” said Consuelo, getting to her feet and grabbing Siobhan with her. “We’re late for the thing.”

The girls closed the dining-room doors behind them, leaving them alone.

Victoria found her words again. “Are you asking if I want to live with you?”

Natane held her hand. “It’s like you said. Two old widows keeping each other company.”

“Hiding in plain sight.”

Victoria expected to drown in a wave of emotion, but she just felt at peace. She pulled Natane to her lap. She was tall and gangly, yet she could fold herself around Victoria in the most natural way. They held each other.

“I wish I could do more,” she whispered to Natane’s chest. “Give you a ring, make an official promise, something.”

“I don’t like rings.” Victoria could practically hear her scrunched nose. “You can promise to make breakfast, though. I don’t really enjoy waking up early.”

“I promise you all the late mornings you want,” she breathed. “You’ve worked so hard, my love, for so long. I want to spoil you. I want you to be lazy and lounge around in bed all day.”

She chuckled. “Wouldn’t that be convenient for you.”

Victoria smiled. She could not stop smiling.

Their peace was eventually broken by a ruckus coming from above. Someone was hitting something repeatedly.

“I found a hammer!”

“Wouldn’t this be simpler with a crowbar?”

“Stand back.”

A loud crack reverberated through the house.

“Okay, that works too.”

Victoria was almost afraid to go upstairs, but she did not have to. Consuelo appeared at the door, holding a bunch of letters. “We managed to open that locked drawer on his desk. Look at what we found.”

The letters were stamped with the Union Army coat of arms. Victoria opened one, hands shaking. The pages were filled with a regular cursive, so familiar it hurt.

Dear Mother, said the first letter, I hope this finds you well. I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Yet again, I have not received an answer to the letter I sent at Christmas, but I will not despair. Surely you will someday find a place in your good heart to forgive your son.

She spent the evening in her Henry’s room, reading and rereading those precious words through her tears.

*

The following morning, she woke up in a guest room, face full of dark hair, and cold because Natane had stolen the bedcovers. Victoria laughed. It was ridiculous how happy this made her.

“Breakfast,” grumbled Natane, rolling in the sheets.

Victoria kissed her on the forehead, overwhelmed with love.

*

“This,” she said, opening the door, “is the cellar.”

“What’s down there?” asked Siobhan, peering over her shoulder.

“All of my old dresses.”

Lisette shoved her way inside with a feral growl.

*

Victoria made a list and, slowly, they found every item on it. A Singer sewing machine for Mrs.Zhao; a dozen books for Mei, some of them in Mandarin. A delicate tea set for Mrs.Jackson, a book of sheet music for James, toys for his younger siblings. A brand-new kitchen battery for Mrs.Horowitz. An incredibly warm and soft arctic fox coat for Natane’s mother, and a pair of delicate golden spectacles in their ivory box. A new pump for the well, rolls of good fabric, medicines, delicious coffees and teas, a daguerreotype camera.

Victoria found Natane leaning on the schooner, looking exhausted and overwhelmed.

“My darling, you can go back if you want to. There’s enough of us to carry everything.”

Natane’s harried face melted into something soft. “Do you want to know something? The last time we shopped like this, that’s when I first knew I loved you for real.”

Victoria blinked. “…But you hated that day. You said there were too many people around, that it was too hot, too smelly, and that your shirt was uncomfortable.”

“Yeah. And I still wanted to stay with you.”

They were in public, so Victoria could not kiss her to her heart’s content, but she kept it in her mental to-do list for later.

*

Martha Jackson became the proud owner of a gold mine.

*

They filled the three wagons, locked the manor, and went home.