Rescuing the Heiress (6 page)

When she paused there, Tess looked up at her with a smile. “Is there a problem?”

“Only with me old coat and hat,” Mary said. “'Tis good enough for church but I don't want to embarrass you.”

“Anything that's good enough for the Lord is certainly good enough for me,” Tess said. “If it really bothers you, though, I do have another coat and hat you may wear and then keep, if you like. They belonged to my mother.”

“Oh, I couldn't.”

“Nonsense. Annie wore them last night and they were too big for her so they should fit you perfectly. They're still up in my room. I know Mother would want you to have them in any case.”

“It's a darlin' girl you are,” Mary said. “Your mama would be very proud.”

“I truly hope so,” she answered wistfully. “I wish she were still here so I could ask for her advice.”

“Could ye ask me?”

Tess almost choked. More warmth flowed into her already rosy complexion and she shook her head as she clasped her hands and bowed over her plate to ask the blessing.

Some of the most troubling elements in Tess's life were her errant, possibly sinful thoughts of Michael Mahoney. Confessing as much to the man's mother was
not
on her list of suitable ways to cope. Not even at the very bottom of that imaginary list.

 

When the telephone at Michael's fire station rang, the last person he was expecting to hear from was his mother. “What's wrong, Ma? Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Then why are you calling? I didn't think you were allowed to use the Clarks' telephone.”

“Miss Tess gave me permission and showed me what to do.”

“Great. So, what's wrong?” He was imagining all sorts of terrible catastrophes, all beginning and ending with Tess Clark.

“Nothing. I just wanted you to know not to stop by tonight, in case you don't have to work, I mean. I won't be home after supper.”

“Why not?”

“Because Miss Tess and I are going back to the Mechanics' Pavilion and…”

Michael couldn't contain his astonishment. “What? Are you daft, too?”

“Don't be silly. And don't be talkin' that way about Miss Tess.”

“I suppose she's standing right there listening.”

“Yes. And she's a fine lady.”

“She's more like a spoiled brat,” Michael argued, only half agreeing with himself.

“I'll pretend I didn't hear you say that, Michael Mahoney, and I certainly hope she didn't, either. Now
put that Irish temper of yours back in your pocket and calm down.”

Grumbling under his breath, Michael managed to control his gut-level response. If that impulsive young woman dragged his mother into trouble he'd never forgive her. Never.

“How are you getting to and from the pavilion?” he asked.

“I don't know. We'll be fine. Don't worry yourself one little bit.”

He wanted to warn her to be careful, even toyed with the idea of ordering her to stay home. But he knew his mother. And he was beginning to know Tess a lot better than he'd planned to. Neither of them was the kind of woman who could easily be bossed around, although of the two, he figured his mother would be the more tractable.

“All right. Do as you please. Just stay together and don't talk to strangers. Hear?”

As she ended the conversation and hung up, Michael almost thought he heard giggling on the other end of the line. That was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. It probably meant that his mother and Tess were sharing a laugh at his expense.

“O'Neill,” he called up the narrow wooden stairs that led to the firemen's quarters on the second floor. “I'm going to need you to take part of my shift for me tonight.”

There was a moan, followed by, “Aww, me head's splittin', Michael.”

“It's your own fault if it is. Sleep it off till supper time. I'll wake you before I leave.”

“What's so all-fired important? You got another moonlightin' job like last night?”

Michael huffed and answered under his breath, “No. This one's even worse.”

S
ince her father had objected to her wearing her late mother's favorite coat the evening before, Tess had replaced it in the attic chest. As she'd carefully folded the garment and prepared to lay it back in the trunk, she'd noticed a thin, linen-covered book tied with a satin ribbon. She hadn't seen that for years. It was Mama's journal.

Touched by nostalgia, Tess had intended to leave the precious book where it was, unread, but at the last moment she'd snatched it up, carried it to her room and slipped it under one of the feather pillows on her bed.

Now, dressed in her own elegant broadcloth coat with a velvet shawl collar and a much more demure chapeau bearing a few white feathers and small pink roses, she was ready for her evening adventure.

Michael had had so much trouble finding a place to leave the buggy the night before, Tess had decided it would be smarter to not use the cabriolet again that evening. She hoped her companion wouldn't object.

“I don't mind a bit,” Mary said, buttoning the fitted, hand-me-down woolen coat as she and Tess prepared to leave the house. “I walk into the city all the time.”

“I wish I could say I did,” Tess replied. “Father has always been too protective for that. I've never had the opportunity to explore much farther than the church over on Van Ness, at least not by myself.” She smiled as she paused on the back porch and donned kid gloves. “I suppose you think that's odd.”

“Not for the likes of you, it isn't. Mister Gerald is just looking out for you. He always has.”

“It feels more like being a prisoner,” Tess said with a sigh. “I know he means well, but…”

“Aye. They all do. It's the way they were raised, more's the pity. Take my Michael, for instance.”

Tess's heart leaped in spite of her desire to keep from reacting to any mention of the man. “What about him?”

“He wasn't truly angry when I told him where you and I were going even if he did sound that way. He was just being bossy, like his father was, God rest his soul.”

“I've never asked you about him. I'm sorry. Has your husband been gone long?”

“Long enough,” Mary said with a soft sigh. “He wasn't gentle like my son but I know he did the best he could for us.”

Hearing Michael referred to as
gentle
seemed odd to Tess. She thought of him as strong, stalwart and very masculine. Then again, she supposed a man's mother would view him in a different light than others did.

“I could hear the rise of Michael's voice when you told him where we were going tonight. He certainly didn't sound very happy.”

That made Mary laugh. “I think they're all petrified that we women will stop takin' their orders. We won't, of course.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Tess said. “That notion does sound appealing.”

She looped her arm through Mary's as they descended the sloping drive onto Clay Street and turned toward Van Ness. It seemed a bit strange to be on foot, let alone in the company of the estate cook, yet Tess's heart was light and her enthusiasm boundless.

The sun had set. A row of gaslights lined the upper portion of the avenue between the trees, illuminating their pathway. Fog was thin and patchy this evening which also lent an air of openness. Homes they passed were, for the most part, well-lit as well, thanks in part to the proliferation of Mr. Edison's electric lamps, especially in the wealthier parts of the city where the gas along the streets had also been replaced by electric lamps.

As an added plus, a warm breeze was blowing over the inland hills so the air was merely tinged with salty sweetness instead of bearing the unpleasant aroma that often rose from the docks, especially during the summer.

Tess sighed happily. This was true freedom. A simple change of habit had shown her a whole new world; a world where she could just be herself rather than Gerald Bell Clark's pampered daughter. It was an
amazingly liberating feeling, one she found so exhilarating it nearly stole her breath away.

 

Michael had changed from his fireman's uniform into the black corduroy suit he wore when attending church, hoping to blend in better. If he'd had an Ulster overcoat such as his father had worn, he'd gladly have donned it, too, to ward off the evening's chill.

He joined the throngs of men once again milling in front of the pavilion. His dour mood fit the overall atmosphere perfectly. Hatless, with his thick, dark hair slicked straight back, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his suit coat as he paced, waiting and ruing the confrontation he knew was coming.

As before, the crowd was swelling with women from all walks of life, including society matrons, although he assumed that most of them were simply out for a lark rather than convinced that this crazy idea of equality for women had real merit.

Scanning the multitude, he spotted his mother before he saw Tess. Mary was taller in the first place, and since she was wearing an ornately flowered and beribboned hat that added nearly another foot to her height, she certainly did stand out above the crowd.

Elbowing his way toward her, Michael noted that Tess was at her side. He forced a smile and greeted them amiably. Or so he thought.

“Good evening, ladies.”

Mary gasped.

Tess frowned before replying, “What are
you
doing here?”

“Looking out for the pair of you, if you must know,” he said.

“We don't need looking after.” Tess's chin lifted and she stared at him. “We are perfectly fine on our own.”

“That's a matter of opinion.”

“Yes, it is,” Tess said. “Mary tells me she often walks about in the city. Alone. If you're not concerned about that, you certainly shouldn't worry about us when we're together.”

Michael's jaw gaped. She was right. His mother did make a practice of strolling the city streets, at least some of them, unescorted.

“Not after dark, she doesn't,” he countered.

Tess glanced at the well-lit pavilion and then gave him a self-satisfied smile. “It's hardly dark here, sir. Now, if you will excuse us, we'll be going inside.”

Without thinking, Michael reached for her arm as she tried to pass.

Someone else tapped him on the shoulder from behind at the same instant.

As he turned to see who was interfering, he saw a flash of movement and felt a jolt to the side of his jaw.

Staggered, Michael released Tess. He blinked to clear his swimming head. A mustachioed dandy in a bowler hat and striped silk cravat was facing him with fists raised defensively, posing like a boxer in the ring. The man was jumping around on the balls of his feet as if there were swarms of biting ants inside his shoes.

“What the…” Michael began.

Tess raised her voice and interrupted with a sharp “No!” She stepped in front of him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Nevertheless, he rubbed his jaw and peered past her while Tess turned to face the attacker, her hands on her hips.

“Phineas Edgerton. What in the world do you think you're doing?”

“Defending your honor, Miss Clark.” He stopped dancing around but didn't lower his fists. Nor did he take his eyes off Michael. “G.B. told me you might be here tonight.”

“My
father
sent you?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Well, go home. There's no need for you here. And certainly no call to go around punching innocent people.”

In Michael's opinion, the man Tess had called Phineas was not planning to take her seriously. He was of a slighter build than most firemen and clearly not much of an adversary in a real fight. Still, he had delivered a hard enough blow to temporarily stun and Michael was not about to give him a chance to do it again.

When Phineas reached toward Tess, Michael acted. He pushed the thinner man away with more force than was needed and sent him reeling.

“Stop it. Both of you.” Tess raised her arms and intervened as if attempting to keep two brawling little ruffians apart. “This is ridiculous.”

Although Michael did give ground he remained ready to renew the battle if need be. “We'll see about that.”

“No. You will see nothing.” Calmly and deliberately, she nodded at the other man. “Phineas, may I present Michael Mahoney and his mother, Mary.”

To Michael's dismay, he had temporarily forgotten that his mother was even present, let alone standing back and watching the whole confrontation.

“Mary, dear, this is Mr. Edgerton, one of Father's vice presidents,” Tess continued.

The cook made a slight curtsy but did not offer her hand. Neither did Michael.

Tess went on, “I suggest we all go inside and find suitable seats before they're all gone.” That said, she slipped her hand through the crook of the banker's elbow and motioned to Mary to do the same regarding Michael.

He offered his arm to his mother without hesitation. As long as Tess and that skinny fop were going into the lecture hall, he might as well accompany them.

Later, when he had a chance to speak to his mother in private, he intended to tell her exactly what he thought of her foolishness. Going to a controversial lecture like this was bad enough without joining forces with the boss's daughter to do so. There would be no way that Gerald Clark would not hear every juicy detail, thanks to his toady.

Michael clenched his fists. He wished he'd punched Phineas in the nose instead of merely giving him a shove.

He sawed his jaw from side to side to test it. Unless he
missed his guess, he was going to be sporting a dandy bruise on his chin by tomorrow. That was what he got for letting himself be dragged into another of Tess's wild schemes.

Beside him, his mother tightened her grip. When he glanced down at her she peeked from beneath the brim of the fancy hat. “Your Irish is showin',” she said, giving him a sly grin. “You'd best mind your manners if you want to impress anyone.”

“Only you, Ma,” Michael said. “You know you're my best girl. Always will be.”

Mary chuckled. “I surely do hope not. I have me eye on a houseful of grandbabies just as feisty and handsome as you are.”

 

Tess was walking several paces ahead of mother and son and the crowd was creating a loud murmur that kept her from overhearing everything they said. The few words she had picked out, however, were enough to make her blush. Unlike Mary, Papa had never mentioned the next generation, nor had he pushed her to court more often than she had wished to. At least not yet.

Eyes downcast, she glanced at the expensively tailored coat sleeve where her gloved hand rested and recalled a few times when this man's name had come up in conversation. It was starting to look as if it was no accident that her father had chosen to send Phineas on this particular errand. He was young, single, well-born and a rising star in the banking business. Not only that, the Edgerton family was one of the richest clans on the west coast.

Tess shivered. Surely Papa wasn't trying to play matchmaker. Or was he? It would be just like him to try to manipulate her into joining two prominent families through matrimony, for the sake of increasing the influence and holdings of both.

Pulling her hand from the banker's sleeve, Tess eased away from him.

“Is something wrong, Miss Clark?” he asked, doffing his bowler and removing his gloves now that they were inside the hall.

“No. Nothing. It's just very crowded in here, don't you think?” She dropped back until she was beside Mary. “I see the front rows are already full. Shall we sit back here?”

“Fine with me.”

To Tess's chagrin, the older woman immediately edged into the nearest row and led the way.

Both men stepped back politely, eyeing each other like two feisty roosters in a barnyard. Tess balked. According to proper etiquette, she should follow Mary. That would place her between Michael and his mother, or, even worse, would leave poor Phineas sitting next to her on one side with the surly fireman on his other.

She glanced back and forth, unable to decide what was the best move. Michael looked ready to explode and Phineas was acting so proper and stuffy she wanted to shake him.

Her eyes locked with Michael's and she tried to will him to understand. It almost seemed as if he did comprehend her dilemma when he bowed slightly and said,
“If you all will excuse me, I'll be waiting for you ladies outside like I did the last time.”

Tess wanted to thank him, to let him know that she was grateful for his sensible choice. Unfortunately, she had no chance to speak before he quickly wheeled and stalked back up the aisle.

Phineas, however, seemed smugly satisfied, giving her further proof that he was far too much like her father to suit her. He gestured for her to follow Mary, then, hat and gloves in hand, joined her.

Having that man seated so close felt nothing like it had to have Michael beside her. There was no thrill, no warmth, no sense of strength or power. Phineas was simply there.

If she hadn't been with Mary, Tess would have left the lecture hall and abandoned the unpleasant man without a moment's hesitation. Her wish to do so doubled when Phineas leaned closer and whispered, “What did that ruffian mean by
the last time?
”

Tess merely folded her hands in her lap, faced forward and pretended she hadn't heard the question.

 

To Michael, standing idle outside, it seemed as if the meeting was lasting forever. He hoped his mother had gotten the women's movement out of her system by now. He'd certainly had enough of it.

The whole premise was crazy. Women had men to take care of them. They didn't need to be standing on a soapbox and yelling for more rights. It was bad enough that there were already a few female dentists and doctors
practicing in the city. Why, a committee of misguided ladies had even petitioned the Board of Supervisors to allow women in the police department a few years back. Next thing he knew, they'd be wanting to join the fire brigades!