Deadly Proof: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (30 page)

Soon to be Mrs. Dawson
.

Annie would ask Laura to print up some business cards announcing the name change that she could give out to her clients. Maybe spend the money to put a small ad in the
Chronicle
advertising her services under her new married name. She’d decided to go by
Mrs. Ann E. Stewart Dawson
for business purposes. She hoped the inclusion of her maiden name would still resonate with those men in town who remembered her father, Edward Stewart, as the famous San Francisco stockbroker of the eighteen-fifties.

Nate hadn’t even asked her about the name change. Surely he wasn’t worried she would hang on to Fuller? The sooner she was rid of any connection with her first husband, John, and his family name, the better. She just hoped that Nate’s parents weren’t sticklers for convention—which would mean they expected her to be called Mrs. Nathaniel Dawson. She’d only met them once, last Christmas, when she visited Nate at their ranch down the peninsula. But between the fuss over Nate’s new nephew and the excitement over Laura’s news about moving up to San Francisco to teach, she couldn’t say she really got to know either of them. Nate’s mother wrote her a very nice note when Nate told them of their engagement. But she didn’t know what they thought about her career as Madam Sibyl.

In any case, she wanted everything to go well with the wedding so his parents wouldn’t question his decision to marry her. She hoped they would be pleased with the invitation when they got it. Laura brought home a proof copy of it for Annie to see last evening. It was simply beautiful. That was one of the reasons she was visiting Nate this afternoon. He should have gotten a response from his parents by now about the date, and she wanted to show him the invitation and get his approval so Laura could have them printed up tomorrow morning and she could get them in the mail that afternoon.

She hoped this might cheer him up. While she was pleased he’d trusted her enough on Tuesday evening to confess his fears about the upcoming trial, she’d hated sending him home in that black mood. Once they were married, it would be different. Then she would have numerous ways to lighten his spirits...

Smiling at that thought, she turned off Market and briskly walked up Sansome Street. It only took about twenty minutes to get from her boarding house to Nate’s law offices, and after sitting all day it felt good to stretch her legs and feel the sun on her face. Or she would be feeling the sun if Beatrice hadn’t scolded her and made her take her parasol, reminding her that she didn’t want to have freckles running across her nose and cheeks for the wedding. Annie envied Laura for her darker coloring, noticing that a day in the sun just deepened her skin’s lovely glow. She just burned and freckled, which didn’t go particularly well with her reddish blonde hair and pale skin or the lovely dress the Moffets were making for her. She’d had one fitting so far, but they made her close her eyes, insisting they wanted the finished dress to be a surprise.

That was all right with her. All she cared about was the look in Nate’s eyes as she came down the aisle.

*****

A
few minutes later, she stood in the open doorway to Nate’s office and silently observed him. His head propped up by his left fist, he was scratching out a line of writing with his pen. He looked exhausted. As if he hadn’t slept. Annie felt guilty about having kept him at the boarding house so late Tuesday night. Each time they separated, she longed more acutely for the time when the end of the day meant climbing the stairs up to
their room
where
their bed
lay waiting for them.

“How is it going?” she said as she walked into the room.

“Terribly.” He stood up, crumpling the paper, and tossing it into a metal bin beside the desk. “I’ve discovered I can’t write a simple declarative sentence without sounding like a pompous idiot.”

“Didn’t you write some of the opening statement for Cranston in the last trial you did with him?”

“Yes, but he gave me the basic outline. However, I get your point. Please sit down and tell me what I have done to deserve the pleasure of your company. Didn’t you say you had clients to see this evening?”

“Yes, but not until seven.” Annie sat down, leaning her parasol against the desk and then taking out an envelope from her purse. “I wanted you to see what your sister has designed for our invitations.”

Nate took the thick square piece of card stock she pulled from the envelope, which read:

You are Cordially Invited

To Celebrate the Marriage of

Mrs. Ann Elizabeth Stewart Fuller

—and—

Mr. Nathaniel Robert Dawson

Wednesday, August 11, 1880

Seven o’clock in the evening

St. Mark’s Lutheran Church

Reception to follow

“Laura assured me that this is the common language used when the bride doesn’t have family to give her away. Don’t you love the way she used a flower motif for the borders?”

Annie’s heart beat a bit faster waiting for his reaction to the invitation. Laura had supported Annie in her decision not to list the Steins on the invitation, even though Mr. Stein was walking her down the aisle. Then she’d undermined all her reassurance when she told Annie not to mind if Violet said something cutting about its unconventionality. Annie didn’t care about Violet’s reaction, but she didn’t want to do anything to upset her future mother-in-law.

Nate looked up at her and said, “Annie my love, I can’t imagine you letting anyone give you away—under any circumstances.”

He then laughed, completely untying the knot that had been in her stomach.

She smiled and said, “Can you believe it? Until Laura told me, I didn’t know your middle name was Robert.”

“Well, I...yes, Rodgers, what is it?” Nate looked over at the door to the office.

The firm’s law clerk stood there, obviously reluctant to interrupt, but he replied, “Sir, this message just arrived, and since it was from Judge Ferrel, I thought you should see it right away.”

When Rodgers handed the letter over to him and went out, Nate asked Annie’s pardon and opened up the envelope to read its contents. He frowned, then looked up at her, his eyes telegraphing that it was bad news.

“What is it? What’s happened? It isn’t Mrs. Sullivan? I know you were worried about the state of her health.”

“No, Annie, that isn’t it. Judge Ferrel writes that Judge Tannebaum, who was to preside over a criminal case in Santa Barbara, has taken ill. Judge Ferrel has agreed to step in for him. This necessitates that he delay Mrs. Sullivan’s trial until Wednesday, August 11th.”

“Oh Nate, that is the day of the wedding!” Then, seeing the expression on Nate’s face, she took a deep breath and said more calmly, “Of course this means we can’t get married then, can we? Would your parents be able to come if we put it off two or three weeks?”

Nate shook his head. “This was the one small window of time they had before the fall round-up.”

Her heart sank. “When would they and your brother and sister-in-law be free again?”

Nate sighed, then he stood up and came over to crouch down beside her, taking her hand in his, saying, “To be safe, we should probably reschedule it for mid-October. Oh darling, I am so sorry. I wish I had never taken this damned case.”

Friday, evening, July 30, 1880

––––––––

“Slugs are used to fill out a short page or between display lines.” E.H. Knight,
The Practical Dictionary of Mechanics
, 1875

––––––––

“K
athleen said my brother is coming this evening,” said Laura. She stood at the window in Annie’s bedroom, looking down into the street through the curtains, the faint glow of the setting sun lighting up her face. “Have you seen him at all this week?”

Annie looked up from where she sat on a cushion next to the fireplace, drying her hair. “No, he’s been too busy. But he should be here around seven-thirty. Beatrice is fixing us a light supper, which we will have in the parlor. Why don’t you stop by? I am sure he will be glad to see you.”

Laura turned around and said, “I got a letter from Mother this morning.”

“And?”

“Well, of course she understands why the wedding needed to be postponed. But she asked me if she should come on up by train anyway—for the trial itself. Evidently, a neighbor showed her some old copies of the
Morning Call
that had those wretched articles about Mrs. Sullivan.”

“Oh dear.” Annie got up, disturbing the kitchen cat Queenie, who was sitting beside her. Queenie moved onto the now-vacant cushion, circled twice, then sunk down purring.

Annie gave her hair one more vigorous rub with the towel, saying, “You’d better ask Nate about how you should respond.”

“I can tell you, having my mother in the audience would be the last thing I would want. She’s a dear, but really...”

Annie nodded sympathetically but thought about how lucky the younger girl was to have a mother. Then she asked, “Are you studying again tonight?”

“No, Kitty said we have been working too hard. She is coming by around eight to take me to the theater. But we will get back to studying tomorrow evening and all day Sunday. I can’t believe the exams are this Monday.”

“I am sure you will do just fine. Have you heard anything from Mr. Timmons? Is his exam scheduled for Monday as well?”

Laura said, “How would I know?”

This answer confirmed Annie’s impression that once again something had gone wrong between Laura and Seth Timmons. She said, “I gather he didn’t show up for last Sunday’s session.”

“No. But Annie, I wanted to tell you. Iris said this morning that she really appreciated the time you have been taking with Mrs. Sullivan.”

When Nate got the letter about the delay in the trial last Friday, he felt he should go and tell Florence immediately. Annie asked if she could accompany him. This time, Mrs. Sullivan granted Nate’s request for them both to see her. Since then, Annie tried to see her every day, asking her questions about Rashers’ business, working to keep her spirits up. She’d also been able to assure Nate later that Florence had given no indication at all that she’d been the person having the clandestine meetings with Rashers.

It was the least she could do to help Nate, and it made her feel a little less helpless. On that Friday, as they walked over to the jail, she’d done her best to make light of the need to postpone the wedding—pointing out to him that the delay would mean they would have more time to save up money for the wedding trip, teasing him that she would now expect the surprise wedding trip would be a voyage to the exotic Sandwich Islands. However, while she did succeed in coaxing a laugh out of him, internally she’d been wailing in disappointment.

She wanted to be married to Nate—sooner, not later. She was tired of missing him when they were apart, tired of reining in her affection for him when she was with him, tired of saying goodbye and going up to bed alone.

And she blamed herself...if she hadn’t been so quick to anger last October when Nate first proposed, they would have been married by now, maybe even have a child on the way. She knew she was being unreasonable; it was less than a two-month delay. But she couldn’t shake an illogical terror that this delay wasn’t going to be temporary––that for some reason her chance at happiness with Nate was slipping away.

*****

N
ate leaned back and sighed happily. Beatrice O’Rourke had outdone herself once again. How he looked forward to eating her meals every day. He was sitting at the table in the small front parlor where nearly a year ago he’d met Annie in her Madam Sibyl guise for the first time. Then, the firelight added mystery to a stranger sitting across from him with medusa curls, huge black eyes, and a scarlet shawl. Tonight, what he saw was a beautiful woman with golden hair glinting with fire, warm chocolate brown eyes, and a dress that matched the sapphire of her engagement ring. A woman he loved with all his heart and soul.

“It’s too bad you missed Laura,” Annie said. “I think she wanted to talk to you about her suspicions about Iris again, but her friend Kitty came for her earlier than expected because they had to go pick up Ned Goodwin and his fiancé, who are joining them at the theatre.”

“I can’t say I mind having you all to myself this evening.” He caught her hand in his. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come by this week.”

When his uncle learned that the Sullivan trial was postponed, as was the wedding, he’d dumped a whole lot of work on Nate, all of it with short deadlines that kept him at the office from morning to night. And when he had a spare moment, he continued to struggle with writing his opening statement for the trial. He supposed that keeping busy was a blessing. Kept him from stewing over how frustrated he was with having to postpone the wedding. Annie appeared to take the set-back with equanimity. Probably made it easier to carry out all the plans for the ceremony and reception. But to him, October seemed years away. 

Annie said, “Laura did ask me to tell you that your mother is contemplating coming up on the tenth so she can attend the first couple of days of the trial.”

“Oh no! I mean, not that it wouldn’t be nice to see her. But not then. I need to keep my attention on the trial. What put that idea into her head?”

“She saw some of the negative press.”

“Oh.” Nate pictured his mother sitting at the kitchen table at the ranch, reading the lurid stories that portrayed Florence Sullivan as another jezebel like Laura Fair, and he knew the last thing he wanted was her to be here in San Francisco. She would ask him to explain why the newspapers would say such things about his client, her serious and guileless eyes boring into his, and he’d end up tongue-tied like a child.

“Laura wanted to know what to do, assuming you do want to discourage her from coming?”

Nate thought for a moment. “I know. Newsome’s piece for the
Chronicle
is going to come out tomorrow. I will send her a copy and mention that as soon as the trial ends, I plan to come down to help out with the round up for a few days. That should satisfy her.”