A Desire to Hide Part Three

Chapter two…

Mary was sewing on a new dress while Ann read to her from a book of popular poetry. It was a pleasant method for both of the girls to spend their afternoons now that the weather had grown too hot to go out walking. The summer’s heat made neither girl eager to put on street clothes and go anywhere. They both looked up when the maid knocked on the door, and then looked at each other, both willing the other one to get up and answer it. Mary finally got up and got it, she generally lost such contests.

“A letter for your brother, Miss,” said the maid, holding it out.

“If it’s a circular, throw it away,” said Ann, from where she was still sitting, the book of poetry still in her lap.

“It’s no circular, Miss,” said the maid, she was almost smirking as she handed the letter to Mary. Mary closed the door and turned to her sister.

“A perfumed envelope, written in a lady’s hand,” she said, holding it out at arm’s length as she might a dead rat. Ann dropped the poetry book to the floor in her rush to see the letter that Mary was holding.

“I was not aware that Peter had any lady friends,” said Ann.

“Perhaps we should wait until he arrives home to ask him, rather than speculating,” said Mary, carefully putting the letter down on the table. “It is not fair to him that we should make such assumptions.”

“It should be a very enjoyable interview,” said Ann, eagerly.

“Will you continue with the poem you were reading when we were interrupted? I was enjoying it,” said Mary.

“Oh, how can you think of poetry? There is no chance that I could concentrate on reading now,” declared Ann. Mary let out a sigh, put down her sewing once again, and picked up the book of poetry from the floor. Finding the place that Ann had left off reading, she finished the poem herself, savoring every word.

Peter was barely through the door before Ann was sweeping up the letter from the table and running to meet him with it. He looked, uncomprehending for a moment, and then took the letter and opened it. Ann was greatly disappointed when he folded it up and placed it back in the envelop once he was finished reading it. She had hoped to catch a glimpse of it.

“A lady friend?” she asked frankly, once she discovered that there was no other manner in which she would be able to get her information.

“Oh,” said Peter, taking off his hat, “nothing like that. It is a favor I am doing for my boss.”

“Nothing improper I hope,” said Ann. She sounded as if she should like nothing more.

“It likely is,” said Peter, missing the connotation and thinking of his role in the matter. He had some serious doubts that he was doing the right thing by agreeing to represent Charles. Than he realized what she had meant and blushed slightly, but he did not feel like explaining anymore, so he let the matter rest. If she wanted to think that Charles was having a clandestine affair with Peter as intermediary, than so be it. Charles had a poor enough reputation that it was not likely to suffer greatly from such a hint in any case.

The boarding house operated like many city establishments and they had dinner in the evening instead of at noon. It was the one meal that all of the boarders were present, some of them leaving for work earlier than breakfast was served. It caused much comment Peter jammed his hat on his head after dinner and announced he was going out for a short time. It was hardly like Peter to go out in the evening. Mary and Ann did not ask where he was going, but they did look at one another significantly. Even when the twins asked him to take them to parties he generally said that he was too tired after working all day and they were forced to go alone. Now however he stepped out with a brisk step, eager to be done with this whole unsavory business.

If Peter had needed any more reason to be dissatisfied with Charles’s comment about Ms. Seay not being part of his set, it was how close her home was to the rooms that Peter rented. It was an easy walk that brought him to her front door. That she lived in a house, indeed, suggested that her family was in more comfortable circumstances than his own. Taking a deep breath, and bracing himself for an unpleasant interview, he climbed the front steps and knocked. It only took a moment for a middle aged woman to answer the door. Peter quickly doffed his hat.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked him, looking at him quizzically.

“Ms. Seay is expecting me,” Peter explained.

“Oh, you’d be the man from Mr. Hendely. Come in I suppose.” Peter could not help but note that her manner had become decidedly less polite once she had realized who he was. It was not a good start. He suspected that she was Mrs. Seay, the family was not likely to have a servant. Peter and his sister would not have a maid if it was not for the fact that they lived in a boarding house, and he did not suppose that the Seays were so much better off as all that. Looking around the entrance hall reaffirmed his belief. The house was well appointed and comfortable looking from what he could see, but none of it looked rich or expensive. Just comfortable.

“If you will wait here,” said the supposed Mrs. Seay. “I will go tell Charity that you have arrived.”

“I would be much obliged,” said Peter, bowing slightly. He might have bowed lower but her was not entirely positive of her identity, and he would not have liked the embarrassment of showing so much diffidence to a woman who proved to be a servant after all. To not bow at all however would have been the height of discourtesy if she proved to be who he thought. She left him to stand awkwardly while she climbed the stairs to the second story of the house. He was at least not allowed to stand long. She soon came down again.

“My daughter will be with you soon if you will step into the parlor,” said the woman. At least that relieved Peter of some of his discomfort. The woman was indeed Mrs. Seay, and so he had acted correctly. She led him into a room attached to the entry hall, bid him have a seat, and then left through another door without another word.

This time Peter was left to wait for a rather long time. He was painfully aware that it was far longer than was strictly polite. The Seays were clearly attempting to put him in his place, he wished it was not working so well. He supposed that he could only consider himself lucky that Mr. Seay had not burst into the room with a gun yet. Peter tried to occupy himself the best he could, perched on the edge of a horsehair couch, and wishing he was anywhere else. He had set his hat on the table and he toyed with it for a short time. Then, growing bored with this, he turned his attention to the cheap woodcuts that decorated the walls. They all seemed to be of a rather allegorical nature, extolling the virtues of modesty, patience, and forgiveness. He was just growing bored with these as well when the door finally opened and a rather pale young woman entered. Peter almost jumped from his seat, and bowed low to her, certain at least of her identity.

“Mr. Wells?” she asked.

“Yes. I am sorry to trouble you in such a way Ms. Seay,” said Peter.

“Not at all, Mr. Wells, I supposed that Mr. Hendely would send someone like you eventually. Indeed, I will be grateful to the through with this ordeal.” Peter had to admit that she did look as if she had been through an ordeal. Charles had described her as a lovely woman, but Peter only saw a tired one. She looked as if she had not been sleeping well, she had certainly been under much stress, that much was plain.

“Mr. Hendely is eager for a quick solution to this matter as well,” Peter assured her. “He is willing to reach a settlement with you, provided this affair does not appear before the courts. I am sure that you will agree that this would be better for both parties.”

“I am afraid, Mr. Wells, that you misunderstand me,” said Ms. Seay, looking cold. “I fully intend that Mr. Hendely’s breach of promise should be public knowledge and the best manner in which to do so is to go to law with it.”

“Would you not find that such a course of action would damage your prospects greatly?” asked Peter, surprised. It was clear that Charles had understood her mind better than Peter had when he had said that revenge was her motive.

“It being common knowledge that I was engaged to Mr. Hendely, with his reputation about town being what it is, I suspect my prospects greatly damaged in any case. I intend that he should pay for it.”

“Then I do not think that we can reach an agreement, Ms. Seay, I will see myself out,” said Peter, eager to leave. It was embarrassing to see a woman so filled with anger.

“I do not believe that we can, Mr. Wells,” Ms. Charity Seay agreed. “Incidentally, I have never heard Mr. Hendely speak of you?”

“I am employed as a bookkeeper by the firm of Hendely and Son,” Peter explained, picking up his hat and standing.

“How like Charles,” Peter heard her say as he headed to the door.