An Untimely Frost (4 page)

C
HAPTER
5

 

W
illiam Pinkerton sat at his desk in the Pinkerton Agency's Chicago office, weighted down with dread. His ailing father was still adamant that women could be of value in their investigations, which created an ongoing source of strife within the agency. Now the stubborn old man had placed an advertisement in the newspaper, determined to hire even more of the dratted creatures.

William had to admit that the accomplishments of Kate Warne, the first woman Allan had hired, had far exceeded his father's expectations, and there had been other undeniable successes since. However, William still had reservations, and his brother, Robert, was of the firm opinion that the general nature of women left much to be desired if the work became stressful or dangerous. Besides, it was unseemly for any respectable woman to travel in the circles often necessary to capture a lawbreaker.

So strong was his feeling on the matter that after Mrs. Warne's death, Robert, along with George Bangs, Allan's right-hand man, and Benjamin Franklin, the former chief of detectives of the Philadelphia Police Department who headed up the Philadelphia office, had tried to dissuade Allan from hiring more women. Allan had responded by sending the pretty former actress, Mrs. Angela Austin, to Philadelphia in a blatant exhibition of his power.

Robert had fired off an angry missive to his father stating that he wanted no women under his jurisdiction. Allan promptly shot back a letter of his own, pointing out that until he died, neither Robert nor William had any say in matters other than in the areas where they'd been given authority.

William sighed. And now, his father had put him in the hot seat by placing the advertisement in the paper. Already, seven hopefuls had arranged interviews. God alone knew how many more might respond.

Part of William's discomfort lay in the fact that Robert was in town for a visit and insisted on being part of the hiring process. William feared his brother would antagonize or terrorize the unsuspecting applicants so badly that they would run screaming from the interview.

He rubbed at his temples. Oh, if only he could go back to working in the field. Being in the thick of things was far more satisfying than sitting behind a desk. He sighed. He wasn't looking forward to the next few days, but he was in the business of solving problems, and he was good at it.

He only hoped Robert truly understood just how questionable Allan's health had been since the shock that had left him paralyzed and barely able to speak twelve years earlier. William knew that it was far better to indulge his father than raise his ire. After all, as Allan had pointed out, it was his agency, and one day William and Robert would be put to the test to see if they could maintain the quality of service he had established. Until that time, they would have to muddle through these last difficult years with as little strife as possible.

C
HAPTER
6

F
or her interview with Mr. William Pinkerton, Lilly decided to be as truthful as possible without revealing details of her background. In general, she despised mendacity, but a bit of sophistry never hurt, and there was no sense giving him any information that might be used against her. She salved her conscience with the thought that if she became a Pinkerton operative, deception would be commonplace.

Hoping to portray a sensible young woman, she'd chosen to wear a tailored walking dress of forest green with a small bustle. Her hair was swept back at the sides and up into a knot atop her head, upon which perched a small veiled hat. If not the height of fashion, she was at least neat and professional.

As she and the clerk neared the door of William Pinkerton's offices, she drew a deep breath. Performing onstage before hundreds of people had never been this frightening. She had to remind herself that this was no different, except she would be performing for an audience of one.

“Mrs. Warner is here.”

Lilly thanked the clerk and approached the man who had risen and stood regarding her as she neared a massive oak desk.

William Pinkerton, she thought, was the elder brother. She was halfway there before she saw a movement from the corner of her eye. Pausing, she saw another man standing next to a settee. Recalling a newspaper picture she'd seen, she decided this was Robert Pinkerton.

Before she could do more than ask herself what his presence meant, William rounded the corner of the desk, a smile on his face and his beefy hand outstretched. His handshake was firm, his palm dry and warm. His face was broad, and his hair was parted just off center left. Deep grooves ran from his nose and disappeared into the heavy mustache that nearly hid his upper lip.

“William Pinkerton, Mrs. Warner,” he said. “Thank you for coming in.” He gestured toward the other man. “This is my brother, Robert, who will be helping me make the best choice possible for the agency.”

“Mrs. Warner,” Robert said, crossing to her and emulating his brother's greeting. More slender than William, with hair that had a definite left part, and the corners of his mustache extended past his mouth toward a rather unremarkable chin.

Robert's hand was as cool as the appraisal in his eyes. Lilly fought to keep a sudden twinge of discomfort from registering on her face. Robert Pinkerton did not want her there. Instinct told her that he would make a formidable adversary. She was grateful his brother would be conducting the interview.

“Please be seated,” William said, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk. He settled himself behind its shiny expanse, glancing at what she supposed to be the résumé she'd left earlier.

At last he lifted his inquisitive gaze to hers. “Why, of all the positions a young woman of your age might aspire, do you wish to leave your family to travel around the country, possibly putting your life in danger?”

“I have no immediate family, sir. I never knew my father, and my mother was killed when I was eleven.” That at least was the truth, as far as it went. “As for my reason for wanting to be a part of your agency, it is to seek justice, especially for women, because of something that happened to me recently.”

“Please explain,” Robert urged.

Looking from one brother to the other, she gave them a brief overview of her marriage, Tim's abandonment, and what she'd learned at MacGregor's. “It seems he is nothing but an opportunistic scoundrel who used me for his own ends.”

“But that's terrible!” William exclaimed.

“Indeed.”

“If you think to use our agency as a means to locate this man, you are here for the wrong reasons, madam,” Robert stated in a cold voice.

Lilly responded with a bitter smile. “I am not that naïve, sir. I realize I'll probably never lay eyes on him again. In fact, I plan to divorce him and take back my maiden name,” she said, making the momentous decision at just that moment.

She leaned forward, earnest entreaty on her face. “I'm sure you'll agree that many of your cases are crimes perpetrated by men against women. You know as well as I that society refuses to take women seriously or look at them as anything more than breeding vessels to be used to secure heirs. Relegating us to places of inferiority and weakness makes us easy prey for unscrupulous men.”

“Your empathy is admirable, Mrs. Warner, but I fear your attitude does a grave disservice to the masculine gender.” Robert's voice was silky smooth, his smile condescending. “Men only desire to see that women, who as we all know
are
the weaker sex, are protected.”

What a pile of horse manure!
Lilly schooled her features into impassivity and held her tongue. Voicing this opinion to her prospective employers would kill any chance she might have of being hired.

“That may well be, sir, but it is this very attitude that places women at a disadvantage. Taught to depend on men, we are unable to recognize and safeguard ourselves from those unprincipled individuals who would use us for their own ends. Because of this and my own experience, which it seems I can do nothing to correct, it is my strongest desire to help bring about justice for other women who have suffered similar fates.
That
is what brings me here, gentlemen.”

Lilly wasn't certain where the words had come from, but she felt they were apt and well delivered, if she did say so herself.

William nodded. “I see,” he said again. He shuffled the papers on his desk, cleared his throat, and said, “And you are . . . uh . . . currently an actress.”

“Yes,” she said, nodding. “With the Pierced Rose Troupe. I've grown up in the theater, which is one reason I feel I would be an asset to your agency.”

“Yes . . . well . . . your acting background is one of the reasons we called you in,” William said, rubbing his mustache with a thick forefinger. “We often use disguises and infiltration in our quests, and other of our female operatives have been actresses with much success to their credit.”

“I'm aware of that, sir. My greatest hope is to follow in the footsteps of Mrs. Warne, Mrs. Austin, and the others. I'm a quick study. You may not be aware that traveling actors have a grueling show schedule that allows the production to change as often as every two days. Utility actors often know more than a hundred parts.”

Both men looked taken aback by that little-known tidbit. “I see. And how long will you be here?”

“Another week,” Lilly told him, pleased with the way the interview was going. “We're currently playing at the Peacock. Perhaps you're familiar with it.”

“I am,” William said. “It's a small opera house. Not as prestigious as McVicker's or Hooley's, but I understand its popularity is on the rise.”

“You neglected to write down your age, Mrs. Warner.” The intrusive observation came from Robert, who lounged on the settee.

Lilly bit back a sigh. Drat the man! She had deliberately left her age out of her list of qualifications, knowing it was going to be a thorny subject.

“Really?” She combined the surprised question with a troubled look. “I hadn't realized. Well, sir, I will be twenty and three in July.”

“Ah.” Robert Pinkerton managed to put a wealth of emotion in the single short word. “I'm sure you realize you are much younger than the requirements stated in the advertisement, yet you decided to apply anyway. Why?”

“I felt my other qualifications outweighed that one small detail. Besides the fact that women who tread the boards are quite self-sufficient, I've received a better education than most young men in this country. Mr. Wainwright, who took me in after my mother was killed, has given me an education equal to that of the son of an English aristocrat. I speak two languages besides English, and I am an avid reader, which enables me to converse on a variety of subjects.”

“Very impressive, I'm sure, Mrs. Warner, but assignments are often quite dangerous,” Robert pointed out.

“I understand the dangers, Mr. Pinkerton, but you should know that I have also been trained in swordsmanship and the use of pistols. I am a better-than-average shot and sit a horse quite well.”

Lilly saw surprise and a grudging respect in both pairs of eyes. The men posed a few more questions and asked her to wait in the outer office while they had a discussion on her background for the position. She was barely seated in the uncomfortable straight-backed chair when she overheard William say something she couldn't make out.

“Are you daft, man?” Robert's voice carried through the closed door.

The clerk looked up from his task and met Lilly's shocked gaze with a horrified one of his own. Dark red stained his narrow face, and without a word, he returned to his work.

Another mumble from William.

Robert's voice was angry and argumentative. Lilly heard comments like “far too young,” “revenge,” and “lack of experience.” Her heart sank. If she didn't know better she'd think he'd been talking to Pierce.

Finally, the discomfited clerk had enough. Scraping back his chair, he leaped to his feet and knocked on the door, entered, and returned in a matter of seconds, a shamefaced expression on his face. Without a word to her, he went back to work.

There was a final murmured comment from William, and the door opened. He wore an expression of chagrin. Robert's gloating manner did not escape her. “Please come in and be seated, Mrs. Warner,” William said. He cleared his throat and began a long dissertation contrasting the worthiness of her goals to her lack of worldly experience. He finished by saying, “I hope you understand that we must decline.”

It took every bit of Lilly's acting skill to maintain a composed air and keep her disappointment from showing. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing how crushed she was. Knowing she was beaten for the moment, she held her tongue and shook both men's hands in parting. “Thank you for your time, gentlemen, but be warned. You have not seen the last of me.”

“Yes,” William said. “Perhaps in a few years . . .”

She offered them an innocent smile. “Yes, perhaps. Good day.”

She left the offices fuming. She felt that if it were left up to William, she would have been given the position, and if Robert Pinkerton thought he'd seen the last of her, he'd better think again!

C
HAPTER
7

 

T
wo days later, William awaited his second applicant of the day. After three days and more than half a dozen hopefuls, the too-young, somewhat militant Mrs. Warner had been by far the best candidate for the position, a fact that Robert, too, was well aware, though he wanted none of the lot. Nevertheless, William was determined that by week's end, there would be at least one female Pinkerton employed by the Chicago office, though pickings thus far were slim. One applicant was downright flighty; most had been visibly shaken by Robert's silent disapproval.

Lilly Warner had pluck, he thought, recalling the forewarning that they had not seen the last of her. He fully expected to look up in ten or so years and find her across the desk once again. Though he was not a proponent of feminism per se, Mrs. Warner was to be admired for her desire to help the cause of naïve and inexperienced women. William himself knew of many ladies who had been misused by the men in their lives.

A decisive knock sounded. The clerk swung the oak door wide, and intoned, “Mrs. Warren Partridge.”

“Thank you, Harris.”

William stood as Mrs. Partridge entered the room. She was tall enough, at least five foot six or seven. Her hair, dark with several strands of gray, was pulled back into a severe knot at the nape of her neck. She wore white gloves and a hat of chipped straw even though it was still a bit early in the season. Whether by choice or financial limitations, Mrs. Partridge was clearly no slave to fashion. Disdaining the popular slim-fitting skirt and bustle, she wore instead a plain white blouse buttoned to her throat and closed with a cameo brooch above a dark navy skirt.

She was quite buxom for such a slender woman, and she looked a bit broad across the beam, as his father might say. Wire-rimmed spectacles sat on the tip of her straight nose, giving her a scholarly appearance. Compared to the applicants who'd gone before her, she looked to be a down-to-earth, no-nonsense sort. Perhaps they were making progress at last.

He turned to Robert, who had risen, and saw an expression of interest on his brother's face.

“Come in, Mrs. Partridge, and have a seat,” William said, extending his hand. “I'm William Pinkerton, and this is my brother, Robert.”

Shoulders square, chin up, Mrs. Partridge crossed the room to give them both a firm handshake. Niceties satisfied, she accepted the chair across the desk and folded her hands in her lap.

“I assume you've read my résumé,” she said, initiating the conversation, much to William's surprise. Her voice was high, a bit reedy, and more than a bit discordant to the ear.

“I have.”

William called the information to mind. She was a widow, age thirty-seven, a former schoolteacher until her marriage, which, were there a God in heaven, should indicate intelligence, William thought wryly. There were no children to make demands on her. She had spent the past three years on an army outpost in Texas, where her husband, a sergeant in charge of new recruits, had been killed when his horse was frightened by a rattler and threw him.

“I'm a hard worker,” she said in a clipped, precise tone. “And able to follow instructions. I've always enjoyed travel and research of any kind. My acquaintances tell me that I'm very observant, which would be an asset in the detecting business.”

Before William could react to the way she'd shanghaied the interview, she continued to rattle off information about the family and the agency. Both William and Robert were a bit discombobulated by her knowledge of the family and even more disconcerted by her take-charge attitude. They questioned her on a few topics to see if she really was knowledgeable in several fields and found that she was. After thanking her for her time they told her they would let her know their decision in a day or two.

When she was gone, William and Robert sighed in unison. “You have to give her credit,” William said. “She's intelligent enough.”

“That is a plus,” Robert mused. “She definitely fulfills most of the other requirements, but I'm not certain she could move in certain circles without drawing undue attention to herself. For all her qualifications, she comes across as a bit . . . abrasive, don't you think?”

“She needs to listen more and talk less,” was William's take on the situation.

“As should all women,” was Robert's dour reply.

* * *

The following day, the clerk ushered in a Mrs. Stephen Cartwright, a slender woman with blond hair swept up beneath a turban hat. Curls nestled at her nape and across her forehead. Too frivolous, was William's initial assessment. Good heavens! Was that a hint of color on her lips? Her slim dress was of baby-blue brocaded silk with the popular shelf bustle. Sapphire stones sparkled at her ears when she turned her head. She carried a frilly parasol and moved with undisguised grace, seeming to glide across the room.

“Good mornin',” she said, dropping a slight curtsy to him and Robert in turn. Her voice held a breathless quality.

“Please be seated, Mrs. Cartwright,” William invited.

“You're William, did you say?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes unashamedly. “And you're Robert. My. Such handsome men.”

William cleared his throat and shuffled her résumé, anxious to get on with it. “It says here that you lost your husband in the war, Mrs. Cartwright.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“You seem terribly young to have been married some . . . let's see . . . fifteen years ago, at least.”

She gave a little trill of laughter that sent a tingling awareness through William. “I was terribly young. Just sixteen when Stephen and I wed. We do marry young in the South, you know. Why, I'll be thirty-three my next birthday.”

“You certainly don't look it.” This from Robert, whose eyes had a glazed expression quite unlike him.

“Why, thank you, sir.” She beamed at him.

“Was your husband in the military when you married?” William asked.

“No, sir. He joined up in December before General Lee surrendered the following April. I hated for him to go, but he was simply adamant about doing his part.” A reminiscent smile curved her lips. “Why, even I did what I could.”

She sat forward on the chair and glanced from William to Robert, a conspiratorial look in her sparkling brown eyes. “One time I managed to wangle a bit of important information from a Union captain who was quite smitten with m—”

She stopped abruptly, her smile vanishing, and sat up straighter, placing a gloved hand against her cheek. Again her gaze moved from William to Robert and back again. “But you don't want to hear about that, now do you?”

William and Robert spent another fifteen minutes questioning the widow Cartwright, who explained why she felt she was qualified for the position, mentioning that she was well-read and was accepted in social situations. With a demure flutter of eyelashes, she stated that she believed she possessed particular skills to obtain information from certain gentlemen who might bear watching.

Resisting the impulse to whip his handkerchief from his breast pocket and mop at his perspiring face, William could only imagine what those skills might be. He already felt a twinge of envy for the poor fools who would fall under her spell. Satisfied that they had gleaned all the necessary information, William told her that she would be notified of their decision in a day or two.

Lilly left the interview with a feeling of smug satisfaction. She'd gone to three separate interviews as three different women, as well as accosting William outside the building to try to sell him milk. There had been no sign that he or his brother suspected any sort of foolery. It would be interesting to see whom they chose. If she didn't get the position, it wouldn't be for lack of trying.