1863 Saratoga Summer Page 8

  “Bowes, it was like the old days, when we first arrived here,” old Mulligan exclaimed, wiping his hands on his apron and describing the fight at Clancy’s Saloon earlier in the evening.

  Bowes laughed at the man’s obvious glee over the incident. “Was there a huge man, with brown hair?” Bowes asked, wondering if the brothers were embroiled in one of the local bar fights but thinking it unlikely anyone would want to attack either one of those two large men.

  “Aye. There was. He was a mite bloody so I couldn’t see his features. And, there was another almost as big. But he was red-haired.” Mulligan drew in a breath and leaned closer to Bowes.

  “Anyway, all them men fighting that damned federal draft hang out in Clancy’s most nights and don’t seem to be very considerate either. It seems Clancy has his hands full with the likes of them, besides trying to quell the happenings of this very evening,” Mulligan added, his voice low and tense. “You know how us Irishers get riled over what might turn out to be nothing.”

  “Och, I know it for a fact.” Bowes shook his head in agreement. Worry creased his forehead. “I should have warned the boyos not to go into that place. They’re new here.”

  “Aye that ye should. Why didn’t ye send them here? I would have taken good care of yer friends, for sure.”

  “That you would. I should have come with them meself, but me daughter fainted upon meeting the man she married. She’d never seen him all grown up. I had to drive her, and the nasty woman she lives with, home to that East side mansion those Dewitts call a home.”

  While continuing to worry over the fate of his daughter’s husband, Bowes gestured to Mulligan to go on with the story.

  The older man chuckled. “Well, anyway, the boyos in Clancy’s got to feeling their oats, I’m thinking, and created a riot, such as we’ve not seen in a long time. Clancy had to drag himself out to the street to call for the police.”

  “It must have been a sight, for sure.” Bowes knew he couldn’t hurry Mulligan into telling the story any quicker, so he smiled and listened carefully.

  “Och, that it was.”

  “Did the police take any of the fellows away?” Bowes asked, becoming more irritated by the minute. He tapped his foot several times in aggravation.

  “Aye, they threw four of them into one of their conveyances. I heard one of the officers say they’d sort it all out in the morning, if and when everyone was sober.” Mulligan gave a hearty laugh and slapped Bowes on the back.

  “Mulligan, I’m thanking ye for the information. I think one of those boyos was me daughter’s new husband.”

  “Och then Bowes, ye better be getting her and bringing her to the precinct, otherwise they’ll be sending those fellows home again to Ireland,” Mulligan said, his head shaking in commiseration.

  “I’ll go prepare my daughter for the possibility. Right now. This very night. We’ll be going down to the precinct in the morning to spring those boyos from their cells.”

  Bowes left Mulligan, but not before he thanked the old man. Bowes hurried back to his carriage, mentally cursing himself and trying to figure out where he could get the money to buy their release. Regardless of the consequences, he needed to see Sinead tonight, to discuss this with her and to beg her forgiveness.

  “Och, hell and be damned. I’d better pick up the boyos’ gear. I bet they left their trunks in Clancy’s.”

  ~*~

  Dusk descended by the time Bowes arrived at the Dewitt’s mansion on Fifth Avenue. He tied the horses to a post left near the street for that purpose. The streetlights lit his way to the closed iron fence of the mansion. He reached up and pulled the chain to the bell at the entrance. Its tinkle broke the stillness of the night.

  He knew it was late to call on people like the Dewitts, but his parental obligation to explain to Sinead why her husband didn’t join her as planned had grown to unreasoned importance in his mind. He needed to relate what had transpired, to describe what she must do now and how she must behave in the morning, no matter what the police or anyone might say to her.

  A bit of heat dampened his brow and trickled down his face. He wrung his hands together before fisting them behind his back as he waited for someone to answer his ring. The very idea of the upcoming interview with his feisty daughter made him uneasier than anything he’d experienced of late. Nevertheless, he marched up onto the small circular porch of the mansion’s entrance, to the huge wooden and glassed-in red door. With nervous fingers, he brushed off his jacket, straightened the rest of his clothing and rapped loudly on the door. In an unconscious gesture, he rubbed the knuckles of his hand, more from nerves than necessity.

  He understood from Adelaide Dewitt, only this morning, he was not welcome in this house. “No fault of me own,” he grumbled, moving from one foot to another. “Them Dewitts and me never did agree on the upbringing of young Irish folk. Like me daughter. Gave her fancy ideas, they did.”

  No footsteps were heard near the entranceway. No one came to answer the door. Bowes beat on it again, a bit harder this time. He was determined to rouse someone. Still no one came, so he kicked the door with his heavy boot in defiance and guilt at the unpleasant turn of events since the O’Malley lads’ arrival. He beat his fist against the door again.

  Annoyed at being kept waiting for so long, Bowes gave the door one last kick with the side of his foot and turned to go down the steps. When he reached the stone of the sidewalk, he heard the door creak and turned back to the now opened door.

  A decidedly stuffy white-haired man, in servant’s livery, with a smug look on his face, stood in the entryway. He spoke with extreme politeness in the high and mighty accent of all the English Bowes knew. “You have the wrong entrance, sir.”

  “Is this not the home of Ludwig Dewitt?”

  “Yes, it is, but you, sir, need to go to the entrance at the back, in order to deliver any goods.” The man smiled and went on to give directions. “If you go down the narrow street to your right, you’ll see a small lane to your left. Come to the back door of this house. It’s designated.”

  Bowes face grew hot with embarrassment. “Are ye finished with yer speechifying? If so, let me tell you, I’ll be doing nothing of the sort. I’ve come to see me daughter, I have, and I won’t be going to another door, no matter where it may be.”

  “Your daughter?” The man’s nose wrinkled. His eyebrows were raised in disbelief. “I doubt your daughter would be here, sir, much less live here.” The man gave Bowes a look of superiority. “Even if she were, I’m sure you would need to go to the service entrance. It’s clearly marked, so there should be no problem in you finding your way.”

  Bowes grew more annoyed by every minute he spent talking to this guardian of the door. Things needed settling before those lads were shipped back to their da, and he needed to discuss the situation with Sinead. He had the distinct feeling only Sinead could fix the problem.

  The man turned to go and attempted to shut the door. Bowes slipped his foot between the doorjamb and the door itself. “Find me daughter! I know she lives here. I intend to stand on this very porch and wait until she’s called.”

  “I beg your pardon?” The man turned back to Bowes, his face a stiff mask.

  “Ye don’t need to be begging me pardon or any such thing. Is this the home of Sinead O’Malley and her son? I seek entrance if it is.”

  “There is no one by that name living in this house. I keep telling you that, but you don’t seem to listen well.”

  A maid arrived in back of the man standing at the door. She whispered something into his ear. It was the lass who earlier traveled to the piers in the carriage with Sinead. With a giggle and brief wave to Bowes, she scurried away to another part of the large house.

  “Oh, my,” the man said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand and was given no directions. Are you Mister O’Malley?”

  “Nae. I’m not. I’m Bowes Brennan. Da, I mean father, to Sinead.”

  “I’m so sorry. I mistook you for a tradesman. In f
act, didn’t I see you driving the coach my mistress rode off in this very morning?”

  Bowes glared at the man. “Aye. I was driving that carriage, just to see that me daughter made it safely to the proper wharf to meet her husband. I know exactly what ye took me for, and I don’t appreciate your fancy, hell-bent-to-those-in-trade attitude.”

  “I am sorry. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Nigel, the major-domo of the house.” He nodded in deference.

  “Major-domo is it? What in God’s good name is a major domo?”

  Nigel ignored the question. With his hand and a brief nod of his head, he ushered Bowes into the foyer. “Might I offer you some advice, sir?”

  Bowes, irritated by the condescending treatment, answered. “What advice might you be offering me that I would listen to?”

  “First of all, Mister Brennan, a gentleman would remove his cap.”

  “He would, would he now? Well, thank ye kindly for yer advice,” Bowes said, grabbing the hat from his head and shoving it in a pocket of his trousers.

  “Secondly, there is no Sinead in this house. We do have a young woman, who lives here, called Jane. She is nursemaid to Robert, the Dewitt’s grandson.”

  “Jane? Can’t ye even call her by her rightful name, a name given to her by her blessed mam who passed on to her reward?”

  Nigel stuck his nose in the air and looked down at Bowes. “In this house, the young lady is called Jane, as my employers wish. If you want to see her, call her by that name.”

  By this time, an angry flush came to Bowes’ face. He knotted his hands into fists. He hated to be treated like a lesser being, an animal. “I don’t care what ye or yer employers care to call her, I want to see my daughter.”

  A distinguished-looking man dressed in a tailored suit, his dark hair showing a bit of white at the sides and at the temple, appeared in the doorway. “Nigel, why are you standing in the foyer with the door open? You’re letting in the heat from the street. What seems to be the trouble? Close the door, please.”

  The man moved to return from wherever he’d come when he noticed Bowes. “Excuse me. Sir, did you wish to speak to me? Nigel, please close the door before more insects invade the house.”

  Nigel pointed. “This gentleman wishes to speak to Jane, sir.” Nigel stood directly in Bowes’ path.

  “Jane? Well, she’s not feeling well. Heat-struck, I believe. And for the very same reason, I do not wish to speak to anyone myself.” He turned away from the entrance to move back into the bowels of the house. “Nigel, tell the man to come back in the morning. Miss Jane is not receiving at the moment.”

  Bowes pushed his way past the major-domo, trying to face the heavy-set man who was about to leave. “’Tis me daughter ye’re keeping from me, and I’ll not be having it,” he shouted. “And who are ye anyway that ye know the personal state of me daughter’s health?” He raised a fist.

  “Er, um…” Nigel took a fearful step backward.

  “Not you, man. Him.” Bowes said, pointing to the man in back of Nigel. “Will ye not be answering me? Who are ye?”

  “Why I’m Ludwig Dewitt, master of this house. And you, sir, I presume are Jane’s father?” he asked in a condescending manner.

  “Aye that I am.” Bowes puffed out his chest and looked Ludwig Dewitt squarely in the eye.

  “Let me say this once again. I’m Ludwig Dewitt. Your host.” Ludwig nodded. “Do come in. Come ahead,” he said politely, gesturing Bowes further inside the home. “The family is gathered in the drawing room. You’re welcome to join us there.”

  “Nae, I don’t think it would be a comfortable thing. I’ll just be seeing me daughter, Sinead, if ye’d have her fetched for me.”

  Ludwig nodded to Nigel. “Please ask Tibia to fetch Jane to my office.”

  “Yes, sir. Immediately,” Nigel agreed and left the hallway, going somewhere to the back of the house.

  “Why didn’t ye just have someone bring me to her room? I could speak to her there easy enough.”

  “I’m sure my wife would not feel it appropriate.”

  “There’s not much that lady feels is appropriate, save fer crashing me skull with her handbag.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Ludwig cocked his head to one side, puzzlement written on his face.

  Bowes thought Ludwig Dewitt might ignore the snide remark. He smiled at his own bravado.

  “I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about. I was not aware you knew of my wife, Adelaide.”

  “I can’t say I actually know the woman,” Bowes said, grinning. “Let’s just say, I’ve had some dealings with her in the past.”

  “I certainly will discuss it with her shortly but, in the meantime, let me escort you to my study, where you can speak to Jane in relative peace. If you’ll follow me.”

  Ludwig turned. He tipped his head in a specific direction and made his way across the foyer. He continued down a long hallway before opening the door to a small room. Half the room was filled with books, neatly arrayed on wooden shelves. A large mahogany desk faced the door and one leather chair nestled beneath it and two others, one to each side.

  Ludwig walked to the desk and lit the gas lamp sitting atop it. The light from the lamp created a warm glow but left the room dimly lit. “I do hope this light will be enough for your meeting with your daughter.”

  “It will have to do, for sure,” Bowes said, ignoring the man and glancing around the room, somewhat awed by its grandeur.

  “Make yourself at home then. If you need anything, just pull on that rope,” he said, pointing to the bell rope that hung in the corner. He smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile to Bowes’ way of thinking. “I’m sure Jane will be here momentarily.”

  When Ludwig opened the door, Sinead stood at the threshold. “I’ll leave you two to your discussions.” He sidled past the girl, gently shoved her inside the room and closed the door.

  Bowes’ body trembled as he gazed at his daughter. Lord but she looked like her mother, except for the slight rose color of her hair. Just looking at Sinead made his heart ache for the woman who had been his only true love, in a lifetime filled with loving women.

  ~*~

  Sinead didn’t move away from the door to come nearer or greet him like a daughter should. Instead, she glared at him through narrowed suspicious eyes. “You’ve come calling? At this hour? Well, da, what have you done now?” Her eyebrow moved up an inch and her distrust was apparent in her expression.

  Bowes couldn’t move under her scrutiny. “Och, Sinead, ye don’t be talking to me in that old lady’s tone of voice ye use on the Dewitts or their servants. Remember, ye’re me daughter, not me ma or me boss.”

  “I feel like your ma. You’ve made me old beyond my years.”

  Bowes gasped. “That’s a terrible thing to say to yer very own da.”

  “Something has happened. I know it. You wouldn’t be here at this hour, or at all, for that matter, if everything was fine. Do you want to tell me about it, or do you intend to sing and dance your way around the situation, with your wee bit o’ Irish rainbow sitting on your shoulders to tease me?”

  “My God, child, ye sound so harsh to me. I know ye’re annoyed, but am I that much in yer disfavor, lass?”

  Sinead heaved a great sigh. She moved to sit in one of the chairs at the side of the desk and gathered her skirt around her, pausing in what she was about to say, reconsidering it. “Da, ‘tis your schemes that are in my disfavor, not yourself. I love you madly, and I treasure all the things you’ve tried to do for me over the years. I just wish you’d stop the doing of them.”

  Bowes sat in the chair at the other side of the desk. He gazed across its expanse and tried to smile, a smile that did nothing more than show some creases on his mouth. He felt like getting down on one knee to beg her forgiveness. But he couldn’t imagine the thing he should be forgiven for, so he tried to explain.

  “Sinead, please understand. Ye’re all I have left in this whole world, the only thing I truly value now that yer
mam and sister have gone on to their rewards. Besides, being older, I know how truly ferocious the world can be. I ‘m not wanting to see ye suffer, like I have.”

  “Da, you only suffer because of your plans and schemes for me. You try so hard to make everything right in the world. That can’t happen, not even for me, no matter how badly you might be wanting it so.” She stretched her hand, palm up, across the wide desk to his.

  He grasped it in his and squeezed tightly. His smile broadened further when she patted his hand and laid her other one over both of theirs.

  “Sinead, we may have a wee small problem,” Bowes said, clasping her hand even tighter.

  Sinead shook her head and twitched a corner of her mouth. “I thought that might be the case when neither you nor my new-found husband showed up at the mansion. Do I need to ask you about it, or are you going to tell me of your own volition?”

  “Volition? Och, ye mean by meself.” Bowes grinned. “Ye gotten so learned and refined. I hardly recognize me own daughter.”

  Again, she shook her head. “Da, don’t be going on with unnecessary compliments I don’t deserve. I’m still me, a little green lass from Ireland. Now, if you please, tell me what’s happened to the man from Ireland, the man I married a few months ago and have barely laid eyes on.”

  Sinead felt it was her time to smile and when she saw his answering one, she felt relieved. The hardness of the meeting was over. “Now, start telling me what brought you to this house, this late. What disaster do we face now?”

  Still reluctant to speak, Bowes hemmed and hawed. “Ye see. It’s about yer husband and his brother…” Bowes bowed his head, looking at the rug, looking everywhere but in her eyes.

  “I gathered that. You best tell me what it is before I allow my imagination to soar onto the most unimaginable things.”

  Bowes took a deep breath then blurted out, “The boyos are in jail.”

  Sinead gasped, partially stood then sat back down. “In jail?”

  “Aye. That’s what I said, lass…in jail. At a precinct down near the docks,” he said with emphasis.