Uneasy Spirits: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (33 page)

A soft knock on the door woke Annie. As she pulled herself upright in the old mahogany bed and rubbed her eyes, she saw Kathleen enter the room. After placing a pitcher of hot water under the washstand, the young maid lit the oil lamp sitting on the round table by the window since, at half past five, sunrise was at least an hour away.

As quickly and silently as she had come, Kathleen left, and Annie knew she had gone to get the breakfast tray. This left her a few minutes of solitude to remember last evening, and her mind went immediately to the time she and Nate had sat in the cabinet and waited to be rescued by Biddy. The complete absence of light in the cabinet had created a feeling of such intimacy that Annie had felt all rules of proper conduct just slip away. As she had turned into Nate’s arms, their bodies became so entwined she hadn’t been able to distinguish between the beat of his heart and her own. The kiss that had started out so softly, so sweetly, became so intense it awakened a hunger she had never experienced before, not even in the brief few weeks of her marriage when she had thought she had loved John.

The door to her room opened again, and she wrenched her thoughts away from this disconcerting memory. Kathleen entered the room, saying cheerfully, “Did you sleep well, ma’am?” Then she began to remove from the tray the tea pot, cup and saucer, and a covered dish, which would hold scrambled eggs, a freshly baked biscuit, and a sliced orange.

Annie had tasted her first orange on the Los Angeles ranch where she had spent her childhood. To her mind, the accessibility of fresh, inexpensive oranges was one of the many advantages of returning to live in California. She took the robe draped over the end of her bed and put it on, tying the belt tightly while her feet sought out her slippers. “Yes, thank you. I am surprised after all our excitement last night that I slept a wink. But I don’t remember a thing after my head hit the pillow. And you?”

Kathleen, who was moving swiftly through the room and pulling out the clothes Annie would wear as Madam Sibyl, said, “Me too! Mrs. O’Rourke said she could hear me snoring before she went upstairs to bed. Ma’am, she’s joshing isn’t she? I don’t snore!”

Annie laughed. “I’m quite sure you don’t. But I am glad you got some sleep. I know how long and hard wash day can be.”

“
Oh, Mrs. Fuller, with Mrs. Kantor doing most of the heavy white wash and you hiring Biddy’s cousin, Tilly, to help out with the noon and evening meals, my day’s going to be a breeze!”

Annie knew from personal experience that, even with a laundress and a second maid, Kathleen’s day was going to be one of unremitting, hard physical labor. However, if the recent additions Annie had made to the boarding house staff had relieved Kathleen of some of her burdens, she was glad.

As Kathleen left to bring water and wake-up calls to several of the other early risers in the house, Annie’s thoughts returned to the night before. As she sat down at the table and began to pour out her tea, she imagined a future morning, just like this one, with Nate across the table from her discussing his plans for the day or the news in the
Morning Call
. With his income from the law firm combined with the continued income from the boarding house, they might even be able to afford to hire someone like Tilly full time to help Beatrice and Kathleen. Maybe Annie could cut back on the number of clients she saw as Madam Sibyl so that, when Nate came home in the evening, they could have dinner together, right at this table.

I might even be able to risk dropping the fiction of Madam Sibyl altogether and try to build a business as Annie Fuller, financial and domestic advisor
, she thought, smiling happily as she slathered butter and jam on her biscuit.
No, I’d be Mrs. Nate Dawson,
came the unexpected realization
.

Annie had never played the game, familiar to most girls, of thinking about what her new name would be when she married. Yet, when she had married John, a prince charming who had rapidly turned into an evil prince, she had begun to associate her new name, Mrs. John Fuller, with the complete loss of her own identity. On their honeymoon, a two-month trip to Italy they took with her new in-laws, John had begun the irritating habit of calling her “the wife” in public, and in private she had rapidly gone from “darling” to just “you.” She remembered bursting into tears the day they finally arrived back in the States, and her father met them at the boat and called her Annie. She had felt he had given her a piece of herself back.

Annie wondered how Nate would react if she used her maiden name, Annie Edwards, just for business purposes. Would he see it as an insult, or would he be relieved not to have his name associated with a woman working in such an unusual occupation?

Sitting for a moment, thinking about past arguments with Nate, Annie suddenly chuckled to herself. It would be a lively discussion, no doubt about that! She then chided herself for letting her past mar her present.
Which isn’t fair to Nate or myself. Besides, why do I assume he even wants to marry me?

She resolutely pushed away both speculation about her future and anger at her past and thought about what she should do with the information she and Nate had gained from their search of the Framptons’ house. Their romantic interlude last night had been rudely interrupted when Biddy scratched on the door to the small parlor and called their names. When they opened the door and met her in the hallway, she put her finger to her lips and pulled them rapidly through the empty kitchen to the back door, whispering that Kathleen was out in the alley waiting for them.

They handed over their candles, picked up their coats, and slipped out to the alley. Kathleen later told them Biddy had been able to do everything they had asked her to do. She had wiped away any sign of intrusion and nipped down the back stairs to the kitchen just before Albert and Delia had come in the back door. Kathleen, having heard voices, had the presence of mind to gather up their coats and Nate’s top hat and hide in the pantry until Albert and his wife had gone upstairs. Then she had scared Biddy half to death when she re-emerged in the kitchen.

Once Annie and Nate had reunited with Kathleen, they went down the alley, glad there was enough moonlight to make their way. The cabbie was waiting, as promised, but this also meant they really didn’t have time to talk about the night’s events before the ride home. When they got to the boarding house, Annie had insisted that Nate have the cab drive him on home. She told Beatrice and Esther, who were in the kitchen anxiously waiting for their return, that she would give them a full accounting the next day and sent Kathleen off to bed.

But now, before she had to get dressed and prepare for Madam Sibyl’s morning clients, she wanted to think about what the conversation she had overheard between Arabella and Simon meant. For one thing, given how upset Arabella was with Simon’s refusal to deny Annie access to the séances, she felt it was even more likely that Arabella had been the author of the two threatening notes, the so-called “little presents,” She also wondered if there was any truth to Arabella’s accusations about Simon’s intentions with Evie May. The truth, or the ravings of a jealous wife, either way, Annie believed it was imperative to find a way to remove the young medium from the Framptons’ pernicious influence.

She speculated on the identity of the man Simon and Arabella kept talking about. The man who told them about the connection between her and Nate and that she lived at the same address as Madam Sibyl.
He certainly sounded like someone who had been giving the Framptons information that helped them bilk their clients. Any of the men who had attended Monday’s séance and seen Nate might have recognized him. She had trouble, however, seeing Judge Babcock or the banker, Mr. Ruckner, or even the hapless Mr. Hapgood, as masterminds behind the Framptons’ success. They seemed so much like victims rather than conspirators.

But Mr. Sweeter, that was a very different matter. Simon had said something about a coaching session on Wednesday, which was when Kathleen had seen Mr. Sweeter and Arabella together. Sweeter could have run some sort of confidence racket back in his hometown. Maybe when he moved to San Francisco he had joined in partnership with the Framptons, using his cousin’s society connections to gather information and steer clients to the séances. Annie really needed to talk to Esther after dinner and find out if she learned anything more about Sweeter and the Larksons from her daughter yesterday. If she skipped tonight’s séance, she could also catch Hilda Hapgood alone at their store and try to find out if it was her who sent the police that anonymous letter accusing the Framptons of “driving her husband to drink.”

If she didn’t go to the séance, this would at least postpone the inevitable argument she was going to have with Nate. The minute she heard Arabella Frampton tell her husband about how he had better stop Annie from coming, or she would, Annie knew what Nate was going to say. Sure enough, just as she was about to get out of the carriage last night he’d detained her for a moment, saying, “Annie, you will not be attending any more séances or private sittings at the Framptons. It is clearly too dangerous.”

She had smiled and nodded. But she hadn’t agreed.

“
Robbed of $25 by Insidious Confidence men. Charles Hilton, the complainant, and a person evidently not at all familiar with the tricks of confidence swindlers, told his story on the stand with apparent great relish.”
—
San Francisco Chronicle
, 1879

“
My dear, I must say from your description of events you and Mr. Dawson certainly had an exciting time of it last night,” said Esther Stein, tartly. “However, when Mrs. O’Rourke confided to me about your scheme, I was quite upset. The scandal if you had been discovered! The Framptons could have called in the police, charged you both with breaking and entering.” Mrs. Stein put down her crocheting and waved a finger. “No, Annie, not a word until I’ve finished having my say.”

Annie swallowed the defensive retort she had been about to make. She owed Esther Stein and her husband Herman so much that the least she could do is hear her out. Without the Steins, her Uncle Timothy and Aunt Agatha’s oldest friends, Annie would probably still be living back east off the reluctant charity of her husband’s relatives. Herman Stein, as the executor of her aunt’s will, had tracked her down in Boston and sent her the money she needed to make her way to San Francisco by train. He had also authorized her use of the small amount of capital she had inherited to outfit the O’Farrell Street house as a boarding house. He had then moved, with his wife, into the second floor two-room suite, becoming Annie’s best paying boarders.

Along the way, the Steins had become like parents to her, and she shouldn’t have been surprised to discover that Mrs. Stein wasn’t happy about the turn her investigation into the Framptons had taken. She knew something was up when Kathleen had given her the message this afternoon that Mrs. Stein would like Annie to come to her sitting room when she was done with her last client. Most evenings, when her husband Herman was away on business, Mrs. Stein joined Annie downstairs in the kitchen for the pleasant end-of-the-day conversations she had with Beatrice and Kathleen. Tonight, she had clearly wanted to spare Annie the embarrassment of being dressed down in front of the other two women.

Mrs. Stein continued. “I know that I tacitly gave my agreement to your plans on behalf of Miss Pinehurst when I said I would ask my daughter about Mrs. Larkson and her cousin, Mr. Sweeter. But that was when I thought your goal was to attend the séances, using your powers of observation to discover how they carried out their fraudulent practices and turn that information over to Miss Pinehurst. But, I would never have condoned your decision to enter that house, at night, when the occupants were out. Let me tell you, Mrs. O’Rourke and I were worried sick, waiting for your safe return.”

Feeling guilty that she had caused her friend unnecessary worry, Annie said, “Dear Mrs. Stein, I am sorry. I had no idea you would be so upset. I had quite determined that if we were discovered I would pretend that I had come to see the Framptons because I had had a communication with the spirit of my father and that Biddy had kindly let me in to wait for their arrival. Even if the Framptons didn’t believe me, they wouldn’t have dared to take the matter up with the police. The most that would have happened is that I would suffer a little embarrassment, and I might have lost any chance of returning to the séances for further observation.”

Mrs. Stein shook her head sharply, her features rearranged in what Annie recognized as her “stern grandmother” expression. “A little embarrassment? Annie, just because your investigation this summer had a positive outcome, don’t be so sure that meddling with someone like Simon Frampton and threatening his livelihood can’t have very dangerous consequences.”

She paused, continuing to frown. “I know that you think that the unfortunate circumstances of your past, and the necessity of maintaining the pretense of Madam Sibyl, has already put you beyond the confines of normal societal rules. But that isn’t true. To the eyes of the world, you are a beautiful, young widow who runs a respectable boarding house. Don’t throw that reputation away lightly. And, my dear, if you aren’t concerned about your own reputation, think of the damage to poor Mr. Dawson’s future prospects if you had been caught and the Framptons had decided to make an issue of it. You know he would never have done such a foolish thing if he wasn’t so besotted with you.”

Annie opened her mouth, ready to explain that what Nate Dawson did was his own business, not hers, when she stopped, realizing that this wasn’t completely true. All last night she’d been thinking how comforting it had been to have him with her as she snooped around the Frampton house, how wonderful to have met a man who respected her enough to be her partner in what was, she had to admit, a risky enterprise. Then, this morning, she had even gone on to imagine how agreeable it would be to be married to such a man.