Don Gutteridge - The Widow's Demise

“You swear?”

“I do.”

Trueman snapped the reins and the horsesmoved out smartly.

***

Marc and Gilles Gagnon were designated to approachHumphrey Cardiff, who agreed to meet them in his office at oneo’clock. When they were settled in, Marc started things off bysaying, “We’ve come to discuss the upcoming election, which youprobably guessed.”

Cardiff smiled. “That thought had occurred tome.”

“You are chairman of Arthur Dingman’selection committee?” Marc said.

“Indeed I am. And you two gentlemen are muchinvolved in Louis LaFontaine’s campaign.”

“We are. And the reason we have come here isto discuss some of the ground rules for the campaign. We are hopingto avoid trouble on the hustings by doing more advance preparationthat will forestall it.”

Cardiff’s heavy brows shot up. “What sort oftrouble?”

“Well,” Gagnon said, “there was a lot ofviolence and rough stuff during LaFontaine’s campaign in Terrebonnelast April. We are hoping that there will not be a repetition ofthose incidents.”

“And you think our side might be capable ofsuch tricks?”

“Both sides are capable of it,” Marc said.“Strong feelings usually prevail at election time. All we can do ismake sure that the leadership is not the root cause of violenceamong the troops.”

“You feel there might be some stronganti-French, anti-Rebellion feeling among the populace of thecounty?”

“It would be easy to stir up,” Gagnon said,suddenly aware of his very French accent. “As you did in you letterto the Gazette. ”

“Ah, that,” Cardiff said. “That was fairpolitical comment. It was intended to persuade people to vote Tory,not incite violence of any sort. I am the Attorney-General. I amopposed to violence. I stand for law and order. And I can assureyou gentlemen that no-one on our side will do any stirring up ofthe populace.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” Marc said. “Wewant an open and fair election.”

“But,” said Gagnon, “we hear you have takenon D’Arcy Rutherford.”

Cardiff’s grimace turned slowly to a smile.“You overestimate Rutherford’s influence. He is a loyal Tory and asuperb organizer. That is all. You have nothing to worry about onthat score.”

“This is most reassuring,” said Marc. “May weshake hands on it?”

“Certainly,” Cardiff said. He held out hishand. “To a clean election.”

“Likewise,” Marc said.

He and Gagnon were shown out. HumphreyCardiff went back to his desk and sat down. He lit a cigar andpuffed on it with some satisfaction. Words were wonderful things,he thought. They could be shaped, manipulated and aimed where youwanted them. A few minutes later, the side door to his officeopened and D’Arcy Rutherford came in. He was a short, wiry littleman with angular features and tiny shifting eyes that darted hereand there and never seemed to alight anywhere.

“Ah, D’Arcy,” Rutherford said. “You’re justin time.”

“Things are in motion,” Rutherford said.

“LaFontaine will never know what hit him,”Cardiff said.

He continued to puff on his fancy cigar.

***

Carlton Diggs, the butler, poked his head intoDelores’s sewing-room. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but your fatherwould like to see you in the library.”

“I didn’t know he was back from the office,”Delores said, putting down her knitting.

“He just arrived a few minutes ago.”

“Very well, then.”

Delores followed Diggs down the hall to thelibrary. Her father was seated at the big table, fingering acalf-bound book.

“Ah, there you are,” Cardiff said, placingthe book aside. “Please have a seat. There is something important Iwish to discuss with you.”

Delores sensed the urgency in his voice, andwithout further ado sat down next to him.

“I’m not sure how or where to begin, my dear,but begin I must. I’ll come straight to the point. I was, to saythe least, disappointed in your behaviour last evening at theball.”

Delores was taken aback. Her father was notusually so blunt. “Oh,” she said, “in what way?”

“Well, you were, how shall I say it, a littletoo free with your person.” He looked down briefly and then back upagain.

“But I was the hostess. I was expected tomingle and make our guests feel comfortable.”

“Of course you were. But it is unseemly for ayoung woman to approach a man and ask for a dance, a manoeuvre yourepeated several times.”

“I wanted to make Monsieur Gagnon feel athome here in Toronto. I wished to show him we were notprejudiced.”

“He wasn’t the only one, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry you feel so strongly about it,father. After all, I am a woman of independent means.”

“That’s just my point, Delores. You are awidow with a small fortune. Every unattached male in town is inpursuit of you, and you make yourself shamelessly available.”

“I like to dance,” Delores saidstubbornly.

“I particularly don’t like you getting closeto Lionel Trueman. The man is nothing but a gold digger.”

“I only danced with him once.”

“Don’t be disingenuous. I know for a factthat you spent the morning driving about the countryside with theman.”

Delores bit her lip. “Who told you?” she saidsharply.

“What does it matter. I know. And I heartilydisapprove.”

“It was Perkins, wasn’t it?”

John Perkins was the all-purpose manservantin the household.

“What if it was. That is irrelevant.”

“Lionel Trueman is just a friend. I have nointention of marrying the man. Not him nor any man.”

“Then you ought to act in a manner thatsuggests that. I am heavily involved in Mr. Dingman’s electioncampaign. I don’t want tongues to start wagging.”

“So it’s your precious campaign you’reworried about!”

“I’m worried about my daughter. Now promiseme you’ll curtail your activities in regard to gentlemanfriends.”

“Well, it’ll have to be tomorrow because I’veinvited Horace Macy to spend the afternoon with me. He’ll be hereshortly.”

“Macy? The chemist? Why, he’s worse thanTrueman. Everybody knows his business is near bankruptcy. He’safter your money. I absolutely forbid his coming here.”

Delores laughed. “Well, he’s a long ways fromgetting it. I find him amusing. He likes to play piquet. That isall there is to it.”

“I’ll not have him in the house. You are amost wilful girl.”

“Woman, you mean. And a very rich one.”

***

Delores found John Perkins in the drawing-room,stacking kindling in the fireplace.

“Madam,” he said with a tremor in hisvoice.

“Put down your work, Perkins. I wish to speakwith you.”

“Yes, madam. Is anything the matter?”

“Yes, there is. I want to know why you toldmy father about my carriage-ride this morning when I expresslyasked you and the other servants not to.”

Perkins, a handsome fellow with a shock ofsandy hair, went white. “Mr. Cardiff asked me if anyone came tovisit you this morning. I couldn’t tell a lie directly to themaster. He’d have dismissed me.”

“You didn’t have to tell him anything. Youcould have said you were busy all the time and didn’t see anythingat all. Don’t you have a brain in your skull?”

“I’m sorry, madam, I didn’t know what to -”

“It’s too late for an apology. I want you togather your belongings and clear out.”

“You’re – you’re firing me?”

“I am. I can’t have people about me who areuntrustworthy.”

“But my wife is pregnant!”

Perkins did not live in. He had a rentedcottage, where he lived with his wife of six months.

“That’s of no concern to me. And don’t expectreferences.”