Boston Metaphysical Society Read online

  ***

  Samuel was surprised Elizabeth was dressed in her Middle District outfit within forty-five minutes and ready to head out to interview the relatives of the people who had gone missing. Andrew had provided a more complete list after getting the word out that Mr. Owen had hired a detective to find his sister. Over thirty were missing and about a third were children. It boggled Samuel’s mind that the Boston police were not involved. Andrew said a few sympathetic local cops had made inquiries, but it had led nowhere. Otherwise, no one cared. They were, after all, only Irish.

  Elizabeth wanted to say goodbye to her father on the way down, but Sampson informed her he was busy in his study after having a guest and didn’t want to be disturbed.

  Samul had sent word out earlier for the horse carriage to be ready around noon, and the two Irishmen were prompt. It appeared they liked this work and the cut of food and clothing they were getting from Elizabeth. Their enthusiasm was such that when she walked out the front door, they shoved the underbutler out of the way to open the carriage for her themselves.

  Samuel decided he liked that.

  When they entered the South Side this time, Elizabeth had the curtains pulled back so she could use the light to read the partial list of addresses in her journal that Andrew and Mr. Owen had given them. They hoped talking to these families would lead them to others with missing relatives. Samuel expected this endeavor would distract Elizabeth from delving into her ability any more than was necessary to learn how to control the visions.

  The carriage stopped. The larger of the two Irishman opened the door and extended his hand to help Elizabeth out. Samuel sighed as once again almost everyone who met his wife treated her like royalty.

  Oblivious, she glanced down at her list as Samuel followed her out and on to the street. “1201 Sanger Street. This is where the Shannons live. Mr. Owen said their son, Seamus, never came back from his job at the tanner’s.” She marched over to a weather-beaten door whose dark blue paint had been blasted off by the wind and rain over the years. Samuel escorted her in, leaving Eddie to stand guard outside. He trailed his wife up three flights of stairs until they reached apartment number seven.

  Elizabeth knocked on the door. A woman a few inches shorter than Elizabeth with broad hips and graying reddish hair opened it. Her woolen dress was frumpy and stained. Samuel guessed she was about his wife’s age, but the harsh life on the South Side aged her faster.

  She gave Elizabeth and Samuel the once-over before she spoke. “You be the ones looking for Seamus and the others?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth replied. “You must be Mrs. Shannon. I’m Elizabeth Hunter, and this is my husband, Samuel. He used to be with Pinkertons.”

  Samuel saw the woman flinch.

  “I hear about what the likes of you did in Pennsylvania. Why should I trust you?”

  Much to the woman’s surprise, Elizabeth took her hand. “We’re here to help. My husband is a good man.”

  Samuel turned his head away in case Elizabeth or the woman caught his expression of shame and remorse. This was not the time or place to display his guilt.

  “May we come in?” Elizabeth asked.

  Mrs. Shannon nodded. Elizabeth let go of her hand as they were led into a much smaller and dingier apartment than Rachel’s. The Irish woman gestured to a small table with three chairs around it.

  “I’d offer you tea, but I have to be back at work in a half hour.”

  Samuel pulled up a chair across from Mrs. Shannon while Elizabeth sat next to her.

  “When did Seamus disappear?” Samuel asked.

  “Two weeks this Sunday. He was supposed to bring back bread from the O’Malleys, but they never saw him.”

  “We understand he was twelve years old. May I ask why he wasn’t in school?” Elizabeth looked puzzled.

  Mrs. Shannon guffawed. “School? He be apprenticed to the MacGuires. That’s enough schooling for any man. Though he be smarter than other boys. Good with numbers and the like.”

  As Elizabeth jotted notes in her journal, Mrs. Shannon leaned over to take a look at what she was writing.

  “You not be writin’ anything bad about my Seamus, would you?” Her voice took on a hostile tone.

  “No, Mrs. Shannon. I’m writing that your son was very smart. What does your husband do?”

  “Coal miner. He be smart too. Taught Seamus his numbers and his letters. Me, I don’t see so good. Don’t need to read or write in a laundry.”

  Samuel cleared his throat. “Mrs. Shannon, did anything odd or different happen right before your son disappeared? It could be something as insignificant as a new coworker, an odd conversation, an off-hand comment. Anything you can think of?”

  Mrs. Shannon sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, blinking a few times as she stared at the table. She nodded. “Once he talked about a dream he had. Seamus usually keeps such things to himself, being that age when boys’ dreams lead to well . . .” Mrs. Shannon gave them a wink. “What men do.”

  Elizabeth blushed at the comment, which made Mrs. Shannon laugh.

  “You be a bit divvy, being a married woman and all.”

  “Mrs. Shannon, what did he dream about? Did he tell you?” Samuel interjected to save his wife from any more embarrassment.

  “A man stepping out of a fire or a blazing sun. I feared he saw the devil coming out of the mouth of hell, but Seamus seemed sure it wasn’t. Claimed he didn’t feel evil.” Mrs. Shannon chuckled. “But nothing about the devil ever does until it’s too late.”

  ***

  Samuel and Elizabeth spent another ten minutes with Mrs. Shannon before she had to leave for work. Neither made a comment about Seamus’s dream until they got back into the carriage. Samuel noticed Elizabeth looking a little wan.

  “Are you all right?” he asked her as the carriage trundled down the road.

  “Um, yes.” She buried her head in her journal.

  “Do you need to eat?”

  “No, no. These people have been missing too long. We have to visit as many families as we can today,” she insisted.

  Samuel nodded. “Fine. But promise to let me know when you get tired. You had a big day yesterday.”

  Elizabeth slammed her journal shut with a resounding thump. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Don’t coddle me like my father.” She glared at him. “I’m not some flighty woman who faints at the slightest cause. For God’s sake, Samuel, I’m a Weldsmore.”

  He grinned. “Now you’re a Hunter.”

  “No, now I am both. Which makes me a double threat. It’s time you start treating me like an equal.”

  “My equal? Elizabeth, you rank far above me!”

  “You know what I mean.” She frowned at him. “We’re partners in this business, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then treat me like you would treat a male partner,” she instructed him. “Would you ask a man how he feels every other hour? If he needs to rest? Have lunch? Would you be constantly watching him to see if he was going to embarrass you?”

  “You never embarrass me,” he insisted. “But you have had a rough couple of days. I have a right to be concerned.”

  “Of course you do. But you don’t have to remind me every hour.”

  He matched her stern gaze. “As my partner, I need to be sure you have my back. If you are ill or injured, then it affects me and how well we do our job.”

  Elizabeth blinked. “Oh.” she replied after a moment.

  “The only difference is if you were a man, I wouldn’t use such delicate language. I’d simply order you to rest and not return to work until you were ready. Sometimes it can mean life or death.”

  “So you’re treating me like a real partner?”

  Samuel put his hands in his coat pockets. “Yes. Albeit the most attractive one I’ve ever had.”

  Elizabeth leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. But I’ll let you know when I get tired.” She opened her journal
again. “Now, the next stop is on Colebrook, then up to Sixth.”

  The following hours were frustrating and enlightening. As before, the victims were either very bright, a bit dim, or plain odd. No one was just average. Most had friends, but a few did not. What was unusual was that all of them were very trusting, much more so than one would think given their station in life. However, no one had a clue where they had gone or who had taken them. A few had told the police like Andrew had mentioned, but that had gotten them nowhere. The most likely answer was they were dead or kidnapped to be used as slaves in some of the more unsavory factories in the Midwest and on the East Coast. They had disappeared without a trace, and no one cared but their friends and relatives.

  Samuel had spent a fair amount of time in the South Side, so he knew not everyone was miserable. In fact, there was what Elizabeth described as small gardens of happiness sprouting up in the most unlikely places. There were musicians playing on the street with children dancing around while adults clapped their hands, an elderly woman telling stories to old and young alike on the stoop of her tenement, and the usual happy drunken messes in the local bars. However, Samuel couldn’t help but wonder if it was all to mask an underlying dissatisfaction with life. Everyone put on a smiling face because otherwise, their lives were too painful.

  As they left their last stop for the day, a hard reality sunk in. Though they had gotten more details on who was missing, all of their substantial leads had come from Elizabeth’s visions. Every protective bone in his body ached with the thought that his wife was part of this ugly business, but it might be time to admit that if they wanted to find the missing people, Elizabeth might be their only hope in bringing them home.

  12

  Four men sat across from Jonathan at his office on the wharf: the foremen, his two sub-foremen, and the chief engineer. All of them had an expression of disbelief on their faces.

  “Is he really going to pay us that much?” his foreman, Nicholas Abney, spoke as if he just witnessed an angel coming down from heaven.

  Jonathan nodded. “Yes. With bonuses for early completion. I have a feeling more will be forthcoming depending on how he gauges the quality of your work.”

  “We’re the best, Mr. Weldsmore, sir,” Jeffrey, one of the sub-foremen, piped up.

  “Here is the preliminary contract. It won’t be official until we have enough volunteers. And I can’t tell you where you’ll be going until everything has been signed.” He handed each of them a small stack of paper. “Read it over before you leave tonight and return them when you’re done. If you agree, it will mean you’ll have to delay your wedding for two years, Jeffrey.”

  “Sarah’ll wait when she sees how much I’ll be able to put away,” the younger man grinned. “She’s no fool.”

  “Then why is she marrying you?” Nicholas teased.

  The men laughed and joked around, but when they saw Jonathan stand up, they jumped to their feet in attention. “If you have questions about the contract, make an appointment with Mr. Evans. I don’t want any of you going unless you understand what is required.”

  “Yes, sir,” they said almost in unison.

  As the men filed out, Jonathan noticed Mr. Evans standing by the door motioning that he should look out his office window and onto the floor. Two of his guardsmen were preventing Thomas from entering the building while he tried to talk himself in. Jonathan walked back to his desk and picked up the internal phone line.

  “Escort him to the office, Mr. Fowler.”

  He put the phone down and cleared paperwork off his desk. Just as he finished, Thomas arrived with the burly guardsmen right behind him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Fowler.”

  The smaller of the two guards nodded before they both turned and left.

  As Thomas gave the room a quick once over, he straightened his coat. “You certainly keep a tidy office, Mr. Weldsmore.”

  “What can I do for you, Thomas?”

  “I wanted to talk.”

  “We could have done that at the house.”

  “Alone.”

  “All right, but where is Hal now?”

  “I dropped him off at the bank. He thinks I went to the tailor to have another suit made.”

  “He’ll notice when a new one doesn’t show up.”

  “Oh, I ordered it before I left Chicago. It should arrive at the house tomorrow.”

  Jonathan studied him long enough to realize this might be important. “Sit.”

  As Thomas sat down in front of his desk, Jonathan noticed that he carried himself oddly. “Are you all right?”

  Thomas grimaced. “An old injury. Nothing to worry about.”

  Mr. Evans entered carrying a tray of coffee, tea, and small cakes. He set them on a table not far from Jonathan and left without saying a word.

  “What did you want to speak about?” Jonathan sat down.

  “I don’t know what Hal has told you in private, but I’m guessing it’s only a half truth.”

  “I’m fully aware of that.”

  “He wants to take control of House Weldsmore, but Alfred Tillenghast will only help him do that if he convinces you to ally with him in controlling all air and sea travel to Europe.”

  “Why would Tillenghast care about Hal if he already got what he wanted?”

  “Because he would have a patsy as the head of your House,” Thomas replied.

  “Then he would have to kill me and Elizabeth. That would start another House War. Even he isn’t that insane.”

  “Not if he made it appear like an accident, illness. Or something not . . . obvious.” Thomas stared at his hands. “The other Houses would not be happy with your alliance with Tillenghast, but they would respect it. If Hal tried to do it, they would remove him and find some distant relative to prop up House Weldsmore just for appearance and stability.”

  “Why are you telling me this? And don’t give me some claptrap about how you like me and my daughter.”

  “Actually I do, but that’s not why.” Thomas drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Though my talent for airship design is well known, sadly, my business acumen does not match it.”

  “Ah . . . How much are you in debt for?”

  “A little over four hundred thousand dollars.”

  Jonathan blinked a few times, trying not to gasp. “Gambling? Investments?”

  “Aren’t they the same?” Thomas shrugged.

  “Declare bankruptcy and start over. Go work for Warrick down in Philadelphia. I’m sure he’ll give you a job.”

  Thomas shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “You have too much pride, Thomas.”

  “Won’t you even consider a loan? Especially after what I just told you?” Thomas clenched his fists, though his left hand didn’t quite close.

  “None of this is news to me. My brother has tried wresting House Weldsmore from me before. It didn’t work then, it won’t work now.”

  Thomas stood up and walked back over to the window, studying the workers below. “Tillenghast will push you to the edge, Mr. Weldsmore. Be sure you don’t fall off.”

  Without even acknowledging his host, Thomas marched toward the door and left.

  Jonathan took two deep breaths before he reached for the phone. It was apparent that Hal and Thomas were working him from multiple sides. No doubt some of what they told him was lies, but there was truth buried in there somewhere. He needed someone outside of his usual contacts to investigate this. Jonathan considered his collection of spies and inside informants might be compromised. It was time he used a person none of them would suspect—Samuel Hunter.

  ***

  Elizabeth was relieved that Hal and Thomas were not present at dinner. It made for a rather civil and pleasant meal with just herself, Samuel, and her father. Afterward, she told them she was going to take a walk in the garden before it got too chilly. Neither of them wanted to join her, so she took it upon herself to have Sampson order an underbutler to light the oil lamps. They hadn’t run e
lectricity out to the garden area yet, but she liked the nice amber hue the lights gave off even if they also gave off a smelly odor.

  She grabbed a shawl and headed outside while the two men sat at the dinner table discussing weaponry. Samuel preferred the newer multibarrel handguns he had used as a Pinkerton and later as a bodyguard while her father discussed the merits of the compound bow. When Samuel expressed an honest interest in what he had to say, she made a hasty exit. She wanted them to have time to get to know each other better without her being around. It was important to her that they should have at least a modicum of respect for one another.

  Elizabeth opened the French doors that led out to the back garden. Elegant and refined, the space reminded her of the gardens at Hidcote Manor Garden in Gloucestershire, though much smaller in scope and size. The lamps cast shadows over the roses, the hornbeams, and the black pines as their nettles twisted in the moonlit sky. Italian marble benches sat ten feet apart on a walkway made of polished, iridescent dark-blue granite. It was like strolling through a starscape, but it wasn’t her intended destination.

  She walked twenty paces, took a hard left turn through a small opening in the trellis that held up the hornbeams, and entered a tiny alcove bursting with wildflowers and shrubs. No staid roses here except for fuchsia-colored ones climbing the trellises at the north side. The rest were a mix of purple trillium, geraniums, blue hepaticas, and many more. Three lanterns about head high lighted her path as she settled into a bamboo swinging chair suspended from two black pine trees. This place did not have the rigid organization of the larger garden, and it was planned that way. Her mother, Adaline, had insisted that the family have a space in the garden to call their own and not share with any guests unless invited. It was one of Elizabeth’s best memories of her mother.

  The chair swung gently as she tucked her legs underneath her skirt and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. France and Italy were beautiful, but neither of them held the memories and the warmth of this place. There had been some romantic moments here with Samuel as well. She stared up at the night sky as she listened to the faint noises of the cars and carriages traveling down the street. The sounds were soothing, and she felt her body relax like it had at Rachel’s.