Boston Metaphysical Society Read online

  Samuel took Elizabeth’s arm as they walked through a phalanx of Gardner guardsmen. Each bore the House emblem on their lapel of a pick and hammer on a shield. The Gardners owned most of the coal and iron mines on the eastern seaboard. As they approached the mansion, Samuel noticed it was much grander and more ostentatious than the Weldsmore House. Roman-style columns, oak doors two stories tall, and banners with the House emblem draped from the roof. Marble vases about six feet high were filled with trailing roses, and shaped olive trees flanked the steps leading to the front door. It was rather overwhelming, so Samuel ignored as much as possible and focused on his lovely wife.

  They entered a hall lit with gold and crystal chandeliers hanging from a ceiling four stories tall. Small prisms of light reflected off the walls, giving the impression of a fairy land. A sweeping staircase with multiple landings took up one side of the room, which was lined with exotic flowers. Nearby, a row of guests waited to be greeted by their hosts.

  “If I’ve got this right, Gordon and Esther Gardner have been married for forty-eight years. No children. Several nieces and nephews. No one is sure yet who they will pick to inherit, so there is a lot of jockeying around to see who wins the grand prize.” Samuel ran through the basic information Elizabeth had told him about their hosts.

  She nodded and smiled at a few guests as they followed them in. “It’s not a prize, but a responsibility.”

  “That’s your opinion.” Samuel noticed a small group of young men huddled together on the other side of the room. Blond, blue eyed, and without a callous among them, he sensed they might be the nephews in question. “They, on the other hand, are only interested in the money.”

  Elizabeth glanced over at them. “I’ve no doubt you are correct. And it’s shame. The Gardners may like to flaunt their money, but I understand that before the House Wars they aided escaped slaves.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. Not all the Great Houses seek to crush everyone around them, including my father.”

  Elizabeth detached herself from him as they moved up in line to meet their hosts. She extended her hand to greet them. “Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, may I present my husband, Samuel Hunter.”

  Mrs. Gardner, a petite woman, wore a gold silk dress with a matching corset that had gold plates woven into it like a piece of armor. Her gray hair was bound up in a tight bun with more gold filaments braided into it. Samuel guessed her attire cost more than what the average Bostonian made in their lifetime. When she saw Elizabeth, she motioned for her to give her a kiss.

  “Elizabeth, what a delight! I’m so glad you could make it.” She smiled warmly at Samuel as she shook his hand. “Welcome, Mr. Hunter.” Mrs. Gardner turned to her husband. “Gordon, come meet Elizabeth’s new husband.”

  A foot and a half taller than his wife and with the girth of a small airship, Mr. Gardner looked down his nose at Samuel and squinted. “You used to be a Pinkerton man.”

  Samuel extended his hand. “Yes, sir.”

  Gordon Gardner stared at Samuel’s hand and let it hang there. “What makes you think you’re good enough for a Weldsmore?”

  “Gordon!” His wife exclaimed. “Don’t be rude.”

  Those nearest them stopped talking and watched the exchange, clearly hoping they would witness an upstart Middle District man being humiliated in public.

  Samuel dropped his hand and looked Mr. Gardner straight in the eyes. “Because I am Samuel Hunter, sir.”

  Mr. Gardner pursed his lips and nodded. “Confidence. I like that.” He extended his hand. “Welcome.”

  Samuel shook it as disappointed sighs echoed around them. Surprised to feel old callouses and scars on the older man’s hands, he then remembered Elizabeth had told him Gordon Gardner’s father had required all his sons to work the mines growing up. It was how he’d weeded out who was worthy and who wasn’t. Gordon was the only one who had survived.

  “My darling niece, you are holding up the line.” Hal’s voice piped up behind them. “I’ve no doubt that Gordon would love to meet Thomas Rochester.”

  Gordon leaned closer to Samuel and whispered, “Damned Tillenghast lackeys.” Before he could respond, Mr. Gardner had turned his attention toward his wife’s uncle. “Hal, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

  Samuel took that as his cue to move on. He escorted Elizabeth into the crowded salon where waiters bustled about serving champagne and hors d’oeuvres. He plastered a congenial smile on his face as he navigated through a throng of people who felt they had to stop and engage his wife every few feet. They directed their conversation toward her, but watched him out of the corner of their eyes as if he were going to transform into something hideous. At one point, Samuel was tempted to say “Boo” just for his own amusement, but he knew his wife would take a dim view of that. Samuel thought most of the Beacon Hill elite tolerated him because of his marriage to Elizabeth, and most did, at least to his face. What surprised him were the subtle nasty looks he received from the servants. Apparently they did not approve of a Middle District man marrying above his station.

  After the majority of the guests had arrived, Mrs. Gardner swooped in and took Elizabeth’s arm.

  “I’m absconding with your wife, Mr. Hunter. I must hear all the details of your honeymoon trip since I am not able to travel much anymore.” Mrs. Gardner gave him a wink and whisked Elizabeth away.

  While Samuel wondered how best to fit in without looking too obvious about it, a large hand landed on his shoulder. It took all his willpower not to throw it off and brace for a fight. His Pinkerton training dictated that he always be prepared, but it wouldn’t do to assault what turned out to be his host, Mr. Gardner.

  “Sir.” Samuel gave Gordon a little nod of his head. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s a lovely party.”

  “Don’t let my wife hear you call this a party. It’s a ‘salon.’” Mr. Gardner rolled his eyes. “Music and/or readings are involved, but no dancing. I’m surprised Elizabeth hasn’t taught you that yet.”

  “I must admit that I may have not listened to that particular lesson.” Samuel grinned. “My head is still spinning from all the protocol we had to deal with in Europe.”

  “The Great Houses are worse.” The older man chuckled. “You like whiskey?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  Mr. Gardner slapped him on the back, almost knocking Samuel over. “I like you. Come on.” The older man gestured toward a hallway on the other side of the room.

  Samuel glanced over to where Elizabeth was beset by a group of women who fawned over her.

  “She’ll be fine. She’s a Weldsmore.” Mr. Gardner ushered him away.

  As the two men wound their way through the crowd, Samuel watched as his host greeted people yet never allowed himself to be sidetracked. Samuel decided he needed Elizabeth to teach him that skill. Or better yet, the master of it himself—Gordon Gardner.

  It took a few minutes, but Samuel eventually found himself in a library with a large empty space in the middle of the room surrounded by a number of stuffed armchairs and a bar. The maroon velvet curtains were drawn over three floor-to-ceiling windows with walnut bookshelves next to them. It was a more masculine room than what he had seen of the rest of the house. Samuel suspected that this was Mr. Gardner’s hideaway.

  The clink of glasses caught his attention; Gordon handed him a neat glass of whiskey.

  “If you ask me to put water or ice in this, I’ll have you thrown out of my house,” the older man threatened.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Samuel lifted his glass to salute his host, then took a sip. He savored the taste on his tongue for a moment before he swallowed the smooth and earthy drink. It was the best whiskey he had ever tasted. “Excellent. Thank you. Now, maybe you can tell me why we’re hiding in here.”

  Mr. Gardner almost choked on his drink, but recovered quickly. “I hate these salons, but I love my wife. Of all the people who might want to escape with me, I figured it’d be you. You see, I�
�ve done my homework on you, Samuel Hunter.”

  Samuel put his glass down on an end table. “Really. And what did you discover?”

  “You’re honest. Too honest.” The older man poured himself another drink. “And you try to do the right thing. Even when it’s hard. Even when it’s impossible. And you’re not one of us. Which is why I have a favor to ask.”

  Samuel crossed his arms across his chest and sighed. “You need an outsider.”

  “Yes. I will probably die before my wife, and she’s a rather trusting soul. I need someone to watch over her. Protect her from my sniveling money-grubbing nephews.”

  “Why me and not Jonathan?” Samuel asked.

  “You’ll notice things others won’t.”

  “I’d be happy to. Though I hope that won’t be for many years to come.”

  Gordon walked over to the wall next to the bar, tapped a wooden slat until it popped open. Inside was a metal lever. “Stand back.”

  Samuel backed away from the middle of the room as Gordon pulled down the lever. A whirring sound shook the floor as two panels slide back to reveal a billiard table. Gears churned as it rose from the floor. Its legs were constructed of interlocking metal gears that slid into place when the table reached its full height.

  Gordon nodded then pointed to the billiard table. “You play?”

  “I most certainly do.”

  Without a word, both men picked out cue sticks. Samuel hoped that Elizabeth would not be too annoyed with him for disappearing with their host.

  ***

  Elizabeth answered questions about her dress and their honeymoon with all the grace and decorum of a lady. Many of the young women wanted more salacious details about her Middle District husband, but she kept those to herself. Instead, she encouraged them to find suitable husbands outside the Great Houses. This caused one woman to flee in horror while the others entertained fantasies about what that would be like. Elizabeth almost burst out laughing. She realized that none of them would be allowed to marry outside their class. Not unless something exceptional happened, like it had between Samuel and herself.

  Elizabeth thought she may have gone too far when she noticed silence had descended upon their little group and all eyes stared past her shoulder. Someone touched her arm. She looked over to see Thomas Rochester standing next to her.

  He gave the women an elegant bow. “Good evening.”

  “Forgive me.” Elizabeth’s lips quivered in amusement. “May I introduce Thomas Rochester of House Tillenghast.”

  No one uttered a word until Thomas broke the silence. “In your own unique way, each of you ladies look remarkable tonight. You outmatch the women of the Midwest by far.”

  His rich baritone voice caused a few to giggle behind their hands.

  “Now, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Hunter promised to sit with me during the recital. And I want to make sure she gets the best seat.” He dipped his head at them, then offered his arm to Elizabeth.

  She took it, hiding her relief at being rescued. “Thank you, Mr. Rochester. I can’t wait to hear Mr. Racine play.” Elizabeth took his arm and allowed him to escort her away. She leaned a little closer to him. “Thank you, sir. That was well played. I guarantee you will be the topic of many conversations this evening.”

  “I do not know you well, Mrs. Hunter, but any woman from a Great House who marries a man like Samuel Hunter not only has my respect but my admiration. You did a brave thing by marrying him.”

  “Not really. I love him.”

  “That may be true, but often our familial and political ties do not allow us to follow our heart.”

  Elizabeth stopped and stared at him. “Mr. Rochester, I do believe you are a romantic.”

  “Let’s keep that our secret.” He gave her a warm smile.

  “Tommy!” A male voice interrupted them.

  Elizabeth turned to see a man in his mid-thirties, blond hair and green eyes, wearing a silk-blend black suit with gold filaments woven into his cuffs, lapels, and pockets. They were sewn in so expertly that they sparkled in the right lighting. She narrowed her eyes at the Tillenghast airship crest on his lapel.

  “And who is this young lady, Tommy?” The man extended his hand toward Elizabeth. “I’m Leland Tillenghast. A minor cousin. Not one of the inner circle like Tommy.”

  Elizabeth stared at the proffered hand. When she did not take it, Leland withdrew it.

  “Leland, may I introduce Mrs. Elizabeth Hunter. Formerly Miss Elizabeth Weldsmore. Mrs. Hunter, Leland Tillenghast.”

  She gave Leland a slight nod of her head.

  “I wasn’t aware that anyone else from House Tillenghast would be here. What brings you to Boston, Leland?” Thomas asked with a certain edge to his voice.

  “I was bored. So I hopped on one of Uncle Alfred’s airships, and here I am.” He threw his hands in the air. “But it appears I am too late. All the most beautiful women are taken.” Leland extended his hand again. “It was a pleasure Mrs. Hunter, but I am off in search of greener pastures.”

  This time she took it in hopes it would be the last they saw of him. Instead of a cordial shake, Leland brought her hand to his lips. His kiss lingered a second longer than was necessary, and she snatched her hand away.

  “You, sir, are not a gentleman,” she exclaimed.

  Leland gave her a seductive smile. “No, I’m not.” He turned and walked away with a little jaunt in his step.

  “My apologies, Mrs. Hunter.” Thomas led her in the opposite direction of where Leland had gone. “As you can imagine, his family probably escorted him to the airship to avoid a scandal at home.”

  “Of that, I have no . . .” Elizabeth felt a wave of nausea worm its way up her stomach, changing to a sharp pain when it reached her head. She stopped and put her hand to her mouth.

  “Are you all right?” Thomas asked.

  “No. Could you please find my husband? I think I’d like to go home.”

  “Of course.” He ushered her over to an empty chair, where she sat down. “I’ll be right back.”

  She closed her eyes and took deep breaths to rid herself of the sudden headache. When she opened them, Elizabeth was met with Leland’s piercing gaze from across the room. She looked away. Something about this feeling was familiar to her, like a forgotten memory. She was just about to remember when Samuel touched her arm.

  “Let’s go,” he said as he took her hand. “Thomas will give the Gardners our apologies.”

  As Samuel escorted her out, Elizabeth glanced back to see if Leland was still there, but he had vanished.

  7

  A glass of port in his hand, Jonathan stared at the flames in the library’s fireplace. They threw shadows on the walls as it crackled and popped. The house was quiet, as most of the staff had either gone to bed or were out for the evening. He loved this time of night. When he and Adaline were first married, they’d made a point of spending at least two evenings a week in front of the fire in this very room. Sometimes they talked, and, well, sometimes they did other things. The memories were not as fresh as they used to be, but the thought of her still filled him with warmth.

  “Sir?” Sampson stood at the entryway. “Do you need anything else this evening?”

  “Are they back yet?

  “Mr. Hunter and Elizabeth returned early. She wasn’t feeling well,” Sampson replied.

  Jonathan sat up straight. “Is she all right?”

  “Mr. Hunter said she was a bit queasy. They’ve gone to bed.”

  Jonathan relaxed a little. “Good. Pour yourself a glass of port and sit down.”

  “I will happily take the port, but I will remain standing.”

  Jonathan watched as his house manager walked in and poured himself a drink. “You are the best, Sampson. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Suffer someone stuffier than I am, I suppose,” Sampson countered.

  “Not possible.” Jonathan gave the older man a sly grin. “You are the stuffiest and the most loyal.”

>   “Yes, sir. If I might ask what your brother wants this time . . . ?” Sampson’s voice trailed off.

  “He’s a messenger for House Tillenghast. They want me to join with them in monopolizing shipping and airship construction in Europe.”

  “And how do they plan on doing that? There are half a dozen on the West Coast and at least a dozen small companies across the Atlantic as well as Asia and India. Does Tillenghast expect them to just kowtow to him?”

  Jonathan sipped his port. “Thomas said he was using demons.”

  “Was he drunk?”

  He shook his head. “Neither of them were.”

  “Aren’t they merely Irish folktales used to scare children?” Sampson asked.

  “Perhaps. Recent events have made me realize there is much we don’t understand about the world.” Jonathan scratched his chin. “But demons. No. If there are demons, then Tillenghast built them. It wouldn’t be the first time that House tried to play God.”

  The house manager ignored his own rules and sat down. “There were rumors during the House Wars about such things. Maybe House Tillenghast is starting a propaganda war? Or sowing seeds of fear? But for what purpose?”

  “Perhaps to take control of our government, as well manipulate those overseas.” Jonathan put his glass down. “The long game is their forté.”

  “As is playing both sides. Just like you do, little brother.” His hair and clothes disheveled, Hal stumbled in and leaned against the back of one of the chairs. “And why do you talk to a servant about such matters? It’s . . . it’s . . . it’s so egalitarian of you.”

  Jonathan frowned. “You’re drunk. Apologize to Sampson.”

  “Apologize to a servant? Have you gone mad?”

  “I said, apologize.”

  Hal sniffed. “Fine. I apologize.”

  “Now go to bed before you embarrass yourself any more than you already have.” Jonathan ordered.

  “Why would I care what he thinks? I certainly don’t care what you think.”