Authors: M. Louisa Locke
Annie moved closer, worried that she wouldn’t be able to hear what Della said next.
Della’s voice sounded calm and confident as she said, “Andrew, you poor man, don’t worry. They have no proof.
Some anonymous letters, which could have been written by anyone. Do you really think that Mr. Emory or Peter Blaine would ever let this come to a public investigation or trial? Cleary was a fool to make a public accusation.”
Annie wished she knew for sure that someone else besides herself was hearing all of this. Della was right
. They wouldn’t want to make this a public scandal. Yet, if she could convince Della that there
was
proof and get Russell to agree to testify that he’d heard her confess to writing the letters, then Della might be persuaded to stop the letter-writing campaign.
She reached out and tapped Russell on the shoulder. As he turned around, he stepped to the side, revealing Della, whose pink cheeks were still the only sign of how upset she was.
Annie said, “Actually, Mr. Russell, there is proof. If you will come over and examine this ream of composition paper I discovered in Miss Thorndike’s classroom, you will see what I mean.”
Annie drew Russell over and pointed to the pile of paper she’d pulled out of her folder. “Can you see this spot of ink that has bled through this stack of composition paper? If you look closely at these notes to Miss Hattie
Wilks, which I believe you have already seen, you will notice the same ink spot. That, plus the fact that these notes, and this note to Mr. Blaine, close with the same statement, ‘A Concerned Citizen,’ make a pretty convincing case that they were both sent by Miss Thorndike, who had access to the composition paper and a motive for attacking both young women.”
Annie stopped and waited as Russell looked at the material in front of him. He pushed irritably at the shock of hair that fell into his eyes, and he suddenly looked quite ill. She had gotten so caught up in the struggle to get Della Thorndike to expose herself, she’d ignored how personally devastating this all was going to be for Russell. She was asking him to accept that a close friend and trusted colleague had been the one to cause him and the woman he loved so much pain. She started to tell him how sorry she was to be the one to break this news to him, when she felt a
hand grip her shoulder and wrench her away from the table.
“Andrew, give me those papers
!” Della shrieked. She let Annie go and pushed towards the table, reaching out for the documents on it. Russell turned and grabbed Della by the upper arms, holding her off as Annie darted forward and scooped up the folder and the notes and held them to her chest.
Della struggled, trying to break away from Russell. “Andrew, let me go. You don’t understand; I must have those papers. It would be the ruin of both of us. Get them from her.” A strand of Della’s hair slipped down into her face
, and her mouth distorted in anger.
Russell continued to hold her at arm’s-length, giving her a little shake. “Why did you write those notes to Hattie? How could you do that to her?”
“How could I do that to
her
? What about
me
? I’ve done everything for
you
, sacrificed everything for
you
. You were the one who said that people such as ourselves were married to our professions, to our callings. I was content to watch you progress in your career, basking in the knowledge that I had done my part to smooth your way. Then that Hattie Wilks waltzed in, and all your principles went out the window, leaving me with nothing.”
Della’s eyes filled with tears
, and after a moment Russell let his hands drop. With sadness, he replied, “Oh, Della. I know what a good friend you have been to me. I did mean it when I told you I didn’t expect to marry. But I fell in love with Hattie. I didn’t plan it. It just happened.”
“Oh, my dear, Andrew. I know you didn’t plan it.” Della wiped her tears and rested her hands gently on his chest. “You’re such an innocent. As soon as I heard you had agreed to marry her, I went to plead with her not to ruin your career. But then I saw she had seduced you
, and I understood how clever she’d been.”
Russell stiffened and in a tight voice said, “What do you mean, seduced me?”
“Well, I suppose the child might not have been yours. When I suggested as much, she got quite indignant.
Little whore
. She became so upset that I almost believed her. But no matter; it all worked out all right in the end.”
Annie’s skin crawled as she watched Della throw her head back with an arrogant little smile.
This must be what Hattie meant when she told Laura that her fall was ‘no accident’ and that she was ‘pushed,’
she thought. And here was Della, practically admitting she was the one who had pushed her.
Russell looked like he had been hit with a sledgehammer. When Della tried to tuck her arm through his, he pushed her away violently and said, “Don’t you touch me. What do you mean
, everything ‘worked out’? Hattie died. And you are telling me now that she died carrying my child? Did you kill her?”
“Oh Andrew, don’t be so dramatic. It was an accident; she slipped. It wasn’t my fault. Besides, I don’t think that anyone is going to want to reveal that little ‘Miss Perfect’ was pregnant when she died. Ev
en that obnoxious friend of Miss Wilks, Laura Dawson, wouldn’t want that.”
Putting her hand out to pat his arm, Della said, “So now, we just need to convince Mrs. Fuller to hand over the documents
, and we can go about our business.”
Russell looked at her with horror, plucking Della’s hand from his arm as if it were a noxious insect. “‘Go about our business.’ You must be mad! There is no ‘we.’ There never was
, and there never will be. You killed the only woman I will ever love. I never want to see you again as long as I live. ”
As Russell started to walk away, Della’s eyes widened
, and another one of those chillingly arrogant smiles appeared. Before Annie could register what was happening, Della had reached out and grabbed one of the glass beakers on the table beside her and swung it in an arc towards Russell’s head. Annie’s cry gave him an instant’s warning, and the glass shattered over the hand he put up in defense. Annie started towards Russell, but Della launched herself at her back, bringing the two of them toppling to the ground. Annie felt a sharp pain in her left hand when she landed on the glass-covered floor. She tried to scramble to her knees, but the weight of Della sprawled on her back kept her from rising.
In moments
, the weight was lifted. As she struggled to rise, Thomas Hoffmann appeared beside her and helped her to her feet. She saw that Emory was trying to staunch the blood coming from multiple cuts on Russell’s hand, while Peter Blaine held a weakly struggling Della in a crushing embrace.
Blaine gave her a wide smile and said, “Gracious me, Mrs. Fuller, that was well done. I’m not sure I could have handled it better myself. But do let Hoffmann take you home. I think Emory and I can take care of things from here on.”
Chapter Forty-three
Early Saturday evening, February 14, 1880
"It has been a few years since nothing was to be had in Valentines but the vulgar, comic, or tawdry tinsel and lace-paper affairs of foreign manufacture." ––
San Francisco Chronicle
, 1881
“That should do it,” Mrs. O’Rourke said, putting the last strip of sticking plaster on the gauze bandage that covered the two small cuts on Annie’s left hand. “And now my dear, let Kathleen fix your hair. I have to go down and see if Mrs. Hewitt and Miss Laura have returned with the promised fish for supper.”
As the bedroom door closed behind Beatrice, Annie gave Kathleen a broad smile and said, “I can’t believe that she didn’t scold me more.”
Kathleen laughed. “Yes, ma’am. But if she ever gets a chance to meet that Mr. Blaine, he’s in for a tongue lashing for sure. She was that upset to learn a tough Irishman let a lady do his dirty work for him.”
“I’m just glad it is all over and that I could help. I don’t relish telling Laura what I learned about her friend’s death. Or how wrong she was about Andrew Russell.” Annie sighed and closed her eyes, letting Kathleen brush out her hair and re-pin it. She hoped that Nate would get here soon so they could tell Laura together.
After finishing with Annie’s hair, Kathleen took the brown polonaise down to the kitchen to clean, deploring the spots of blood she found on the skirt. Finally alone, Annie stood and checked herself in the mirror over the mantel. She’d put on her good navy, which, apart from the new dress she wore to the theater, was still her best dress. She smoothed down the Basque-styled bodice that fit snugly over her hips and turned around to make sure the heavily draped silk folds of the overskirt were secured tightly to the back of the bodice. She saw that Kathleen had newly starched the lace at her collar so that it stood up to frame her face, which looked very pale and tired. She pinched her cheeks a little, but that simply reminded her of Della, and she turned away, pulling the lace at her wrists down to see if it would cover the bandage. It didn’t.
Looking impatiently at the clock that said it was only fifteen minutes after five o’clock, she sighed. The time between Della’s and Russell’s entrance to the Chemistry lab and Della’s vicious attack had been less than a half hour, but Annie felt as if she had been engaged in a form of mental combat for hours. At the time,
she’d been carried along by sheer nerves. Now, several hours later, she was exhausted. She wanted Nate to be here. She wanted to tell him everything that had happened, even the things she had withheld from Beatrice and Kathleen. She wanted him to take her in his arms and reassure her that what she had done this afternoon was necessary, even if it meant adding to Andrew Russell’s already considerable pain.
She took the small vase of Nate’s violets off the mantel and smelled their sweetness. Then she wandered over to the table and picked up the valentine she had made for him. She’d worked on it off and over the past few days, enjoying fashioning the hearts out of red paper and arranging them with bits of ribbon on top of the white card stock. On the blank side
, she had copied out a poem by Charlotte Richardson, a writer unknown to Annie but good enough to have been included in one of Laura’s literature text books:
Custom, whose laws we all allow,
And bow before his shrine,
Has so ordained, my friend, that you
Are
now my Valentine.
Annie felt the verse, while certainly conveying her affection, was safe. Something she could send a very good friend without embarrassing either the recipient or herself.
Safe, but do I want safe?
Annie put the valentine down in irritation. Listening to Della talk about sacrificing herself for Russell had started up the fearful old refrain she had been playing in her head since her husband’s death––the one that said she would never sacrifice her happiness or her independence for another man ever again. But she was tired of that tune.
And Nate wasn’t John, as he demonstrated over and over. She remembered the look on his face this afternoon as he said good-bye. She could tell he wanted with every fiber of his being to demand that he go with her to Girls’ High in order to ensure her safety. But he hadn’t. He’d let her go, not knowing what kind of danger she was going into. Although she doubted any of them had really imagined the level of Della Thorndike’s insanity, which had apparently already contributed to the death of one woman.
She shivered, thinking about Andrew Russell. His initial grief would now be compounded by the knowledge he had lost both Hattie
and
his unborn child. Yet she kept thinking about the sentiment expressed by Tennyson, “’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” And wasn’t that true? Wasn’t that why, after her talk with Beatrice, that she had finally decided that she was willing to risk future miscarriages in order to have a chance of producing a child of her own?
And who else did she want that child with but Nate? If so, why was she hesitating? She picked up the valentine and added a line under the verse before she could change her mind, and she went downstairs to wait.
*****
“
She sounds completely insane!” Nate said, when Annie completed her recitation of the afternoon’s events. They were sitting in the small parlor where she’d been waiting for him. Cranston had finally let him leave around five, telling him with some disgust that he might as well go since his mind wasn’t on the work. Sprinting down to Market, he’d caught a cab, not caring about the expense, and was at Annie’s door in under fifteen minutes.
“I have never seen the like,” she replied. “And at the end, Della showed no remorse. She seemed to have no comprehension that her actions were criminal and no real fear of the consequences.”
“But you said she cried.”
“Yes, but in some ways that was even worse. She turned the tears on and off like a faucet. One minute she was arrogantly sparring with me, apparently confident that no one could prove her
wrong-doing; the next minute she was trying to win Russell’s sympathy through tears. Then, without warning, she turned into some feral animal.”
Nate took Annie’s bandaged left hand in his and brought it up to his lips, kissing it gently. “And you are sure the cuts aren’t too deep,
and I shouldn’t take you to Mitchell to stitch you up?”
She smiled at him. “No, I am fine, and you can be sure that Beatrice would have insisted I get medical attention if she thought I needed it.”
“What is going to happen next, do you think?” Nate wondered if he needed to schedule an appointment with Emory for Monday, trying to figure out how to fit this in with the trial.
“I’m not entirely sure. Mr. Blaine hustled Hoffmann and me out of there pretty quickly. I don’t think he or Emory wanted witnesses to what happened next.”
“Annie, you don’t think they were going to do violence to her?”
“Oh my, no. Blaine was being quite gentle with her, once she calmed down. No, from what he and Emory were saying to Russell, I think they are going to try to have this treated as a medical problem. There was mention of Dr. George
Shurtleff, who’s the director of the recently opened Napa Asylum for the Insane.”
“Ah,” Nate said, his mind searching for what he knew about the legal process of commitment. “They will need to get a judge’s order and two witnesses. That should be easy for such well-connected men to arrange. Does she have any relatives that you know of who might object?”
“I don’t think so, at least not in the West. I keep telling myself she is, in fact, insane. She probably pushed Hattie down the stairs or, if it really was an accident, it appears she was there and left poor Hattie alone to bleed to death. And something she said made me wonder if she hadn’t planned on targeting Laura next with her slander. Yet I am still uneasy with the idea that she won’t get a trial.”
Annie’s voice quavered, and Nate once again regretted ever getting her involved in this investigation. He said, “Consider this, Annie. If her case came to trial
, she would get what she wanted, the ruination of everyone she saw as standing in her way.” Nate paused, then continued, “And, if she can be as charming as you describe her, without a speck of moral conscience, a jury might find her not guilty, and she would go on ruining other people’s lives.”
Annie nodded, but he could see she was still bothered. He added, “I will talk to Emory. Make sure that they get a legitimate medical evaluation for her.”
Her smile was a gift, and he leaned in and kissed her.
He heard some voices coming up the back stairs from the kitchen and said, “I wonder if that is Laura. I am surprised they stayed out so late. Maybe we can postpone telling her what happened until after she’s eaten.”
Annie stood up, and so he rose, noticing for the first time that she’d been holding something in her lap. Oddly, he could see that the card, which was clearly a valentine, trembled as she handed it over to him.
She whispered, “It’s home-made. I don’t know that I ever made one before, so you should feel honored. I just wanted you to have it before…”
“Ma’am, sir, something terrible’s happened.” Kathleen burst into the parlor, trailed by Patrick McGee and her youngest brother, Ian. Pushing the young boy in front of her, she said, “Ian, tell ’em what you told me.”
Then, not giving the out-of-breath boy a chance to start, she went on. “He says some rough sailor grabbed Jamie and dragged him on board a ship at
Meiggs Wharf. When Ian tried to follow them, some other man threatened him with a knife, so he went and got Mrs. Hewitt and Miss Laura. They were just down the dock. Mrs. Hewitt told him to run get a copper and then come get you. Ian says he told the first patrolman he saw but that they didn’t believe him. So he ran right here. Oh, ma’am, why ever would anyone try to kidnap our Jamie!”