Читать книгу The Barkerville Mysteries 3-Book Bundle - Ann Walsh - Страница 13

The morning of July 1, 1871, dawned clear and bright. Not a cloud threatened to hide the sun’s face, the soft breeze carried not a hint of rain. It was a glorious day to celebrate, though it appeared that many had begun festivities the day before. All night long carriages and horses went past our house as people made their way down the hill to the saloons of Barkerville, and the sounds of revelry carried back up the hill until the early-morning hours. Some of the racers would find themselves with headaches today, I thought, wondering hopefully if the others entered in the Three-Legged Race would be among the sufferers.

But I had had a good night’s sleep and, well before ten in the morning, I was on the platform with the rest of the Glee Club, waiting. At ten o’clock exactly a cannon was fired, the noise and smoke signalling to all that the ceremonies had started. We all sang “God Save the Queen” and followed with a rousing three cheers for Her Majesty. Then the politicians spoke, but luckily only briefly, and the Glee Club performed. After three loud cheers for the Dominion and much applause, the first of the races was announced.

I left the platform and quickly made my way to Pa’s shop, hoping Jenny and Joseph would be on time. The Three-Legged Race was fourth on the program, and I wanted to have a few minutes to instruct Joseph on the best way to adapt his running stride to mine before we actually had to race. I also needed to change into my overalls and work boots. I had worn my good suit for the Glee Club’s performance, but my mother had warned me not to race in those clothes.

No one was waiting for me in front of the shop. I looked up the street, then back the other way. “Jenny?” I called. “Joseph?”

No one answered. The street was deserted; everyone in town was watching the events taking place on the main road.

Not knowing what to do, I called again, louder. “Jenny? Miss Jenny?”

The door opened a few inches, and a voice whispered, “In here, Ted. Inside.” I pushed the door wide and stepped in, blinking in the dim light.

Bridget stood in the middle of the shop, hands on hips, face flushed. “Were you part of this disgraceful business, Ted? Are you responsible for this?”

“For what?” I asked. “What are you doing here, Bridget? Where’s Jenny? Where’s Joseph?”

“Take a good look at your Joseph,” Bridget said, pointing at the rear wall. A small figure stood there, his back to me, his head bowed. He wore overalls, rolled up several inches, work boots, and a large cap pulled firmly down almost to the back of his neck. Joseph was shorter and much thinner than I had imagined him to be. Well, I would have to take smaller strides when we raced. We would manage.

“Joseph?” I said, relieved he was there. “We must hurry. The race will begin soon.”

He turned around, and I could see he had been crying. But what was more important than his tears was the fact that he wasn’t Joseph. “He” was Jenny.

“Jenny!”

“Yes, this ‘boy’ is my idiot cousin,” Bridget said. “I hope you had no part in this scheme of hers, Ted. If I hadn’t been late for the opening ceremonies, I wouldn’t have seen her skulking about as she made her way to your father’s shop and wouldn’t have found out about this until it was too late. We would all have been disgraced.”

“Jenny?” I said again, scarcely hearing Bridget.

Jenny lifted her head. The cap was low over her ears and forehead, but a few tendrils of blond hair had escaped. In truth, she looked nothing at all like a boy. She looked nothing at all like a man, either, even though a very black moustache was crookedly painted on her face.

“Oh, Jenny!” I said.

“Can you say naught but ‘Jenny’ then?” she said, bursting into tears.

“Crying will do you no good, girl,” Bridget said. “Although you’d be crying harder if I hadn’t found out about this in time to stop you and Ted from racing together.”

“But I wouldn’t have—” I began, then wisely closed my mouth. Jenny was so obviously herself, even in men’s clothes and with that ridiculous paint on her face, that I would have discovered her deception immediately. I would never have allowed her to race with me. But now didn’t seem the right time to mention that.

Bridget paid no attention to me. She spoke only to Jenny, her voice loud and angry. “It’s one thing for you to dash around town with the little twin boys, tearing about like a wild thing, though some people have been horrified by that behaviour. But Mrs. Fraser says you tend well to her children and will hear no complaints about you, so I’ve said nothing. But to appear in public in men’s clothes, to enter a man’s race—that is shameful. Even Mrs. Fraser couldn’t forgive that. You would have been sent back to Scotland, you silly girl.”

“But Mrs. Fraser helped me,” Jenny said through her tears. “She lent me the clothes—they’re Mr. Fraser’s—and used bootblack to disguise my face. She said she wished she could—”

“Then Mrs. Fraser is as silly as you are. She might have wild ideas about what women can do, but her husband is not so forgiving. Believe me, you would have lost your job once he found out.”

“He wouldn’t have found out,” Jenny said defiantly, her tears forgotten.

“You think not? Your disguise wouldn’t fool a single person. Within minutes word would be all over town. Didn’t you think about how Ted’s parents would be shamed? Or me? People would blame me for your recklessness, for I try to look after you.”

“But it was nae so serious a thing to do, Bridget.” Two large tears rolled from Jenny’s eyes, sliding down her cheeks and lodging in the thick “moustache.”

“You think not? You know I have a responsible position managing the Hotel de France. Didn’t you think about me, about how I could lose my job, as well? About how I could be hurt by your stupid behaviour?”

Jenny’s lower lip trembled when she answered. “Nae one would have blamed you, Bridget.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. The women of this town could be unforgiving, and it was possible that many of them would hold Bridget accountable for Jenny’s unladylike behaviour.

Bridget turned to me. “Please, Ted, tell me you knew nothing about this. I suspect you didn’t, but I need to hear it from your own lips.”

If I told Bridget that Jenny’s disguise had been my plan, then perhaps she wouldn’t be so cross with her young cousin. If I took the blame, then...

But before I could open my mouth, Jenny spoke up. “Of course, it was nae his idea, Bridget. Don’t listen to him if he tells you it was.”

“Well, Ted?” asked Bridget. “Did you know what she intended to do?”

“Ah...well...I...”

“I shall nae speak to you ever again if you don’t tell her you knew nothing,” Jenny said. “You won’t take the blame for what I did.”

“Well, did you know?” Bridget demanded.

I looked to my right. Jenny scowled, her black “moustache” drooping unevenly down the sides of her mouth. I glanced to my left. Bridget glared at me.

“Tell me the truth,” Bridget said.

“Don’t you dare lie,” Jenny said. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

“I...I...”

I don’t like to tell untruths, but I couldn’t bear to see Jenny in trouble. Surely Bridget wouldn’t be as angry if she thought Jenny entering the race was my idea. But if I did that, if I tried to help, I would lose Jenny’s friendship. I knew she meant what she said, that she would never speak to me again if I didn’t tell Bridget the truth.

“I’m waiting for your answer,” Bridget said.

“I’m waiting, too,” Jenny said. “Say something, you glaikit boy.”

I tried. But all that came out was “I...uh...I...”

Then Bridget took a deep breath and sighed. “No, Ted, it’s all right. You don’t need to answer. I know you’re fond of my silly cousin and will try to take the blame for this even though that will anger Jenny greatly.”

“It will indeed,” Jenny said.

“I don’t need to hear you say it,” Bridget said to me, ignoring Jenny. “From the look on your face when you first saw ‘Joseph’ and realized who ‘he’ was, I honestly believe you knew nothing about it.”

“Nae, he did not,” Jenny insisted. She reached up and pulled off her cap. “I’m sorry, Ted. I thought it was a grand idea.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Bridget said. “Not at all. Now we must do what we can to fix things before anyone else sees you like this.”

“You have to stay out of sight, Jenny,” I said.

“For just how long must I be cooped up here like a misbehaving chicken?” asked Jenny sulkily. “This is my vacation day. I wish to enjoy it.”

“You can enjoy it after I bring you some proper clothes,” Bridget replied, “though it’s tempting to leave you locked up all day. That way I could enjoy the celebrations myself without worrying about you getting into trouble again.”

“Not all day—” I began.

“Of course not, Ted,” snapped Bridget. “That would be cruel. But Jenny mustn’t be seen until she looks like herself again. We’ll keep her safely here until I have her properly dressed.”

“But, Cousin, I’ve already missed the opening celebrations—”

“I also missed them, Jenny, thanks to your foolishness,” Bridget said. “So I’ll hear no complaints from you. You almost caused a great deal of trouble today. The least you can do is be patient for a while until I have you respectably clothed again. Perhaps you could fill the time until I return by removing that ridiculous paint, or bootblack, or whatever it is, from your face.”

“But, Bridget, I wanted to watch the races, and they’ve already begun! If I delay much longer, I shall nae see anything at all.”

“And whose fault would that be?” Bridget asked. “I’ll hurry, Jenny. The Hotel de France is only a few steps from here. I’ll be back in no time at all with some of my clothes for you to wear.”

“Thank you,” a subdued Jenny said, but I scarcely heard her.

The races! I had almost forgotten. I had to withdraw our entry in the Three-Legged Race! I didn’t want anyone else wondering who the mysterious Joseph Morrison was and why he hadn’t shown up. As far as I was concerned, the fewer people who heard his name, the better. Joseph was about to vanish for good, and I didn’t want anyone to ask about him. I had to tell the officials we wouldn’t be racing, but...

“What shall I say?” I asked Bridget. “How can I explain why we won’t be in the race?”

She laughed. “Just say your racing partner isn’t himself today.”

In spite of everything that had happened, I also laughed.

“No, ‘he’ most assuredly is not himself.” We both turned and stared at Jenny, who lowered her head.

“I hope never to see Joseph again,” Bridget said. “I’ve had enough of Master Morrison to last me the rest of my life.”

“I agree,” I said.

Jenny, for once, said nothing at all.