Bloody Lessons (14 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Sunday afternoon, January 18, 1880

"MISSION STREET - THREE NICELY FURNISHED front rooms, with board, very reasonable, references." ––
San Francisco Chronicle
, 1880

“I got the poor lassie’s trunk down from the attic. It’s in her room,” said Mr. McNaughton, the boarding house keeper, solemnly shaking Annie’s hand and then Laura’s. “We’ve instructions from her parents where to ship the trunk; don’t you worry yourselves about that. I just want to say again how sorry I am for what happened. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

Annie assured the man that they appreciated his help. Then she encouraged Laura to follow him as he led the way up the narrow flight of stairs, holding up a lamp. The lovely weather of the day before had been chased away by a storm from the northwest, and the windows on each landing did very little to illuminate the stairs. Annie clung to the banister with one hand and held up her skirts, damp from the rain, with the other. When they got to the third-floor landing and she saw how Laura stared at the large spot where the dark stained floorboard had been scrubbed to a distinctly lighter shade, she was doubly glad she had insisted in accompanying her on this mournful task.
How Hattie must have bled
. She put her arm around Laura’s shoulders and urged her onwards, whispering, “These stairs are very steep, and without any carpeting or proper lighting, I can easily imagine that Hattie’s fall was nothing more than an accident.”

Laura shook her head but continued up the stairs. Once in Hattie’s room, Mr. McNaughton placed the lamp on the top of the dresser and left them, closing the door behind him. Annie went over and opened the curtains, a dreary pattern of faded morning glories, and then looked around at the very small room. As a boarding house keeper herself, she appreciated the difficulties in balancing the costs of furnishing rooms with keeping room rent low enough to attract boarders, but this room was depressing, with its mismatched colors, threadbare bedspread, rickety and scarred furniture. And, with no fireplace, it was also cold. She doubted it ever got warm, except in summer, when it would probably be stifling since it was at the top of the house. At least everything was neat and clean, and, unlike Nate’s boarding house, there were no unpleasant odors.

“Where do you want to start, Laura?” she asked, taking off her cloak and hanging it on the hook on the back of the door. She also took off her hat and gloves and placed them on the bedside table.

“I don’t really know.” Laura’s voice quivered. She then continued, sounding more decisive. “Her parents, in the note I got from them last evening, said that I could take anything I wanted as mementos. Perhaps I should start by going through the dresser and wardrobe, deciding what I want to keep. You could start folding everything else to put in the trunk.” Laura took off her own cloak, hat, and gloves, and, laying them on the back of the chair, she went over and opened up the doors to the narrow wardrobe and started to sort through the garments hanging there.

Annie watched as Nate’s sister took up a dark blue wool shawl and held it to her face, breathing in deeply, and it was all she could do not to cry in sympathy for the sharpness of the girl’s grief. Instead, she went up and gently took the shawl from Laura and placed it around her shoulders, saying, “Such a lovely color and warm. Why don’t you keep it around you? This room is freezing. Shall I fold up the rest of these things?”

Laura straightened her shoulders, pulling the shawl around her tighter. “Yes,” she said, “Hattie was a good six inches shorter than me, nothing here or in the dresser would even fit. Oh, how odd. Here is her cloak and purse. I guess I just assumed she had fallen coming in or leaving the boarding house. But then why would they be hanging up here?”

“Well, I suppose Mr. McNaughton or his ‘missus’ might have…no, that doesn’t make sense. Maybe she was coming down for dinner; the timing would be right.” Annie began to take the skirts, underskirts, and jackets from the wardrobe, piling them over her left arm. Everything was well-made and in the newer Basque style, some in good cashmere and others of silk faille and satin.

Laura, who had been looking in the purse, exclaimed, “Oh, look, she has my latest letter here. I imagine the rest are in the dresser. And here are her keys. I remember, the large one is for her trunk, and the other is for the wooden box she kept letters in.” Going over to the dresser, she pulled out the first drawer, and, after digging through the undergarments, she lifted out a box and climbed up on the bed. Sitting cross-legged, her skirts bunched under her, she stared at the box as if it might bite.

Annie refrained from telling her to mind her clothes, knowing that Kathleen was more than capable of handling any creases. Instead, she worried about what Laura would find when she opened the box. Last night, she had told them about Russell’s request to have his letters returned and her plan to read all of them before she did so. She was convinced that they would reveal once and for all his black nature. Annie worried that whatever she discovered, she would find reading Hattie’s correspondence difficult.

Annie put Hattie’s cloak, shoes, and hats into the trunk, which was a sturdy,
iron-bound wooden one that had probably gone with her to San Jose Normal School. As she laid down the next layer of clothing, the folded suits, blouses, and the long bustle that collapsed into concentric rings, she tried not to think about how the girl’s parents would feel when the trunk arrived. Then she went to the tiny two-drawer dresser and began to pack the embroidered cambric chemises, skirts, and drawers, the two corsets with their multiple corset covers, some low-necked ones with lace, others with high necks of lace and embroidery. The nightgowns were of equally fine quality, thin muslin with lace at the neck and cuffs, heavier cambric gowns, and one soft flannel that was probably her favorite.
She must have spent every penny of her fall salary on clothes. No wonder she had to move to this wretched boarding house when her employment ended––she had no savings.

In the bottom drawer
, she found a long, thin, velvet-covered box that probably held Hattie’s jewelry. Picking it up, she turned to give it to Laura, pausing when she saw that the young woman was silently weeping, holding a bundle of letters to her breast.

“Oh my dear, I am so sorry.” She moved over to sit on the bed next to Laura, giving her a hug. “Can I do anything to make this process less painful? Maybe we should just bring the box with her letters home. You can sort through them more slowly and send them as a separate package. I am sure her parents won’t mind.”

“No, it won’t get any easier if I put it off.” Laura pulled away from Annie. “But I will definitely keep my own letters to her. Do you mind if I put them in your purse?”

“No, not at all.” Annie picked up a stack of letters tied with a red ribbon. She said, “What about these? They seem to be from her parents.”

“Just make sure that there aren’t any other letters in that group, from me for instance, and then put them in the trunk. Oh, that is Hattie’s jewelry box.” Laura took the box from Annie and opened it. “Look, here is the locket I gave her for her last birthday. I will definitely keep that. But these garnet earrings and the matching brooch were her grandmother’s and should go back home. I will just keep the locket and this pair of silver earrings she bought to celebrate her graduation. I bought a stick pin of the same design…I know she would want me to have it.”

More tears flowed. Finally
, Laura shook herself like a puppy coming out of a rain shower, and she jumped up from the bed, saying, “I will not moon over a bunch of trinkets. Annie, could you put the jewelry box in the trunk and then sort the rest of the letters in piles based on who they are from? It makes more sense for me to go through the books and papers in that valise by the window.” Without waiting for a reply, she went over and knelt down by a large leather suitcase and began to pick through what looked like a jumble of school texts and novels.

Annie, curious, leaned over the box of letters and began to take out the stacks of envelopes of various sizes, each tied neatly by a different colored ribbon. There was a fairly large group of letters from someone named Eugenia
Wilks, evidently one of Hattie’s cousins. They could go into the trunk. She went through a number of greeting and Christmas cards, taking out those that came from Laura. Then she took out a packet that had a good many different-sized objects in it, running from business-sized envelopes, ticket stubs, handbills, and a thick stack of small envelopes that turned out to be from Andrew Russell.

Annie looked over at Laura, who had created two different piles of books and was now looking through some papers. She said, “I’ve found Russell’s correspondence and what looks like keepsakes from him. What do you want me to do with them?”

“If you don’t mind, put them with my letters,” Laura said flatly. “I will give them to Mr. Russell but not before I have read them. I know that you and Nate feel that I am judging him too harshly, but if he is not the blackguard I think him, let him prove himself with his own words. I need to understand why she would have taken up with him, be willing to give up her plans, our plans.”

“I know, dear,” Annie replied. “But what if you don’t find what you are looking for? What if it is as simple as they loved each other, and they decided to get married right away when they discovered she was pregnant
? Then, after a tragic accident, she died.”

“But how could she have gotten pregnant! That’s what I can’t understand, Annie,” Laura cried out. “Not the Hattie I knew. While marriage wasn’t in her plans, she thought that women like Victoria Woodhull who talked about ‘free love’ and having relations outside of the bonds of marriage were either addlebrained romantics or just making up an excuse for fornication. How could she have changed that much?”

Annie paused, trying to find words that might help, wishing that Laura’s mother were here to comfort and guide her daughter. “Laura, I don’t know how much your mother has talked about…marital relations…”

“Marital relations? Isn’t that just the point
? This was sexual intercourse,
no
t marital relations,” Laura said. “I’m sorry to be so unladylike. It is difficult enough for me to believe that she ‘fell in love’ so quickly, but I just can’t understand why she would risk everything, for what? I think he must have pressured her into having relations with him. That’s the proof I am looking for in those letters.”

“I don’t know what happened between Hattie and Russell; we may never know,” Annie said. “But I have learned through painful experience that when it comes to relationships between a man and a woman, only the people involved really know the full story.”

She paused, then continued. “Before we married, John was a perfect gentleman. He courted me with flowers and sweet words. Never even tried to kiss me. But it turned out he was a brute, who, after marriage, had no respect for me or my person. Our marital relations were never…loving.” Annie closed her eyes, overwhelmed momentarily by the terrible memories.

She then felt a tentative touch by Laura, who had moved over to sit on the bed beside her and was staring at her with concern.

“Annie, I am so sorry. Does Nate know?”

“No. He knows I was unhappy but not the details, and I hope never to have to tell him. What good would it do? John’s dead; he can’t hurt me anymore.” Annie reached over and clasped Laura’s hand. “But you see, I know in my bones that your brother is different. He would never force me to do something I didn’t want to do. Perhaps even more importantly, he won’t let me do something that I might later regret. You see how careful he is of my reputation.”

Laura looked surprised and said, “Won’t let you? What do you mean?”

Annie felt that she had gone beyond her depth but also felt she had to try to explain because it might help Laura make peace with Hattie’s pregnancy. “I guess that is the point I was trying to make about Hattie and Andrew Russell,” she said. “It has only been recently, with your brother, that I have discovered how intoxicating falling in love can be, how it can sweep away rules of propriety, if only momentarily.”

Shaking her head, Laura’s voice was tinged with disapproval when she said, “Well, I don’t understand why the two of you aren’t planning on getting married if you both feel that way.”

“Well, he hasn’t asked me again,”
Annie said, defensively.

“Again? Annie, you aren’t telling me he proposed to you and you turned him down?” Laura was clearly shocked.

“He did this fall, and we had an awful row. He made the mistake of saying he wanted to marry me to take care of me, so that I could sell the boarding house and never have to work as Madam Sibyl again.”

“Oh stupid, stupid Nate. I can just hear him.” Laura shook her head. “Don’t you hate it when he gets paternalistic, tries to sound like my father? I just laugh at him.”

“Well I am afraid I shouted at him, but later we agreed to take our time, get to know each other better.” Annie’s discomfort over the direction this conversation had taken increased, so she said, “Promise me you won’t speak of this…or anything else I have said today…to Nate. I really shouldn’t have confided in you; it puts you, as his sister, in an awkward position.”

“Annie, I feel honored that you have been honest with me,” Laura said. “But I promise; I won’t say a word. I don’t know what I would have done, would do, without your support. But I won’t promise not to ring his neck if he doesn’t succeed in making you my sister-in-law sometime in the near future.”