P. Alderman - Haunting Jordan

Charlotte blushed prettily. “Chief Greeley!”

He smiled indulgently, then turned to Hattie. “Forgive me for calling so early, but I wanted to drop by on my way to the police station to make certain you ladies hadn’t suffered any lingering effects from your ill-advised adventure.”

“As you can see, we’re perfectly fine,” Hattie replied coolly. “But thank you for your concern.”

Greeley took in Charlotte’s attire. “Your gown is quite beautiful, Charlotte, as well as conservatively designed. You look very fetching in it.”

“Thank you, Chief Greeley.” Charlotte smiled brilliantly.

“Please call me John,” he said gently, then asked Hattie, “I gather you took my advice to heart?”

As luck would have it, Charlotte was wearing one of her more demure gowns. Determined to avoid an argument, she didn’t respond to Greeley’s query, instead turning to the housekeeper. “Sara, please bring Chief Greeley some tea.”

He shook his head. “No, thank you—I can’t stay long.”

“But surely you would sample one of Sara’s marvelous biscuits,” Charlotte exclaimed, then looked hesitant. “Unless you’ve already had breakfast?”

“No, I planned to purchase something from a street vendor.”

“Oh, then you must stay! You can’t work all day on an empty stomach.”

Greeley raised a brow at Hattie, who nodded. “Charlotte is right, of course.” She indicated that he take a seat at the table. “Sara, if you would quickly prepare something for the chief?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sara said, though she gave Greeley a cautious look.

He pulled out a chair and sat down, moving the bouquet of sweet peas aside and setting his gloves and hat in its place. With one hand, he adjusted the crease in his slacks to accommodate the pull across his legs, which Hattie noted were the size of tree trunks. The fabric of his wool vest pulled across his massive chest, straining the buttons. She hoped he didn’t intend to breathe too deeply. The man was built like a lumberjack who’d eaten far too many meals of hardtack and bacon.

Because her inclination was to pace, Hattie pulled a large crystal vase from the sideboard’s lower cupboard and set about filling it with long stems of yellow forsythia and pink plum blossoms.

Greeley spied the bolts of fabric. “Ah, I see you’ve even purchased fabric to add to Charlotte’s wardrobe.”

“The fabric is from Mona,” Charlotte gushed, not noticing Hattie’s wince. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Mona Starr?” Greeley looked at Hattie in stunned disbelief.

“Our gowns were ruined while fighting the fire,” Hattie explained as she placed a sprig of forsythia. “Mona was kind enough to send fabric to replace them.”

The chief’s face set in rigid lines. “Surely you can’t think it appropriate to accept a gift from that woman.”

Charlotte slipped into the chair closest to where Hattie stood, looking stricken. “But—”

“Mona only meant to thank us for our help,” Hattie interrupted, placing a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “And as you yourself have noted, we can put the fabric to good use in dresses for the girls.”

Greeley snorted as Sara brought in his breakfast. “Come now, Mrs. Longren. Were I to see the material made into a dress for Charlotte, I could hardly forget where it came from.”

“You can’t possibly think it has been tainted in some way!”

“That is precisely what I believe.” He buttered his biscuit, wielding the delicate silver butter knife like a plaster trowel, then added a large quantity of jam. “I find myself at a loss to understand how you could be so ignorant of social propriety.”

“But Mrs. Starr is a generous benefactor in this town, is she not?”

Greeley waved a hand. “That is neither here nor there. The material should be returned at once or, more appropriately, discarded.”

“Hattie …” Charlotte whispered.

“Please take the fabric into the parlor,” Hattie told her, keeping her tone gentle, “then assist Sara in the kitchen.”

Charlotte sent her a pleading glance, then gathered the bolts, curtsied, and fled.

Hattie turned back to her arrangement, willing her hands to remain steady. “I will of course take your opinions under advisement, Chief Greeley, but I won’t have you upsetting Charlotte. She lost her parents not even a year ago, and she is emotionally fragile.”

Greeley took his time finishing the biscuit, then leaned back and observed Hattie in a manner that set her teeth on edge. “It isn’t my intent to upset Charlotte. On the contrary, I intend to court her.”

Hattie barely managed to keep her horror hidden. After setting the vase in the center of the table, she returned to her chair, meeting his gaze steadily as she folded her hands in her lap. “I absolutely forbid any courtship, Chief Greeley. At fifteen, Charlotte is far too young to be thinking of marriage.”

“Nonsense. Women frequently marry young,” he returned calmly. “I find fifteen to be an ideal age—Charlotte is malleable and eager to please. And she can certainly benefit from the firm hand and clear guidance of a man of my stature.”

“You mean she can benefit from a father figure, now that hers is gone.” Hattie scoffed at the notion. “You have a decidedly patriarchal view of marriage. Women today consider that a poor basis for a fulfilling relationship.”

“I’m at a loss to understand how I should view marriage any differently,” he retorted, “since it is the way the institution has survived successfully throughout the ages.”

“Patriarchal power and female subordination are hardly God-given patterns.”

He waved an impatient hand. “I can only assume you’ve picked up these misguided notions from reading the recent anarchist feminist literature. If that is the case, then, frankly, the sooner Charlotte is married to me and away from your influence, the better.”

When Hattie opened her mouth to furiously protest, he held up a hand. “I also find it perplexing that you’d deny Charlotte the chance for a suitor who has the means to support her comfortably. Shouldn’t you be considering what Charlotte wants and needs?”

“That is precisely what I am doing, taking into account her best interests! She is too young to make this decision on her own, and whether you like it or not, I am her legal guardian. I will determine who she sees and what she does.”

He stood, bracing his hands on the table to lean over her, and she had a moment of unease.

“I know when a woman is attracted to me, Mrs. Longren,” he said softly, anger radiating off him in waves. “Charlotte is as good as mine. Before you cross me in this, I suggest you give the matter some thought.”

The image of Charlotte married at fifteen to a man such as Greeley made the bite of biscuit Hattie had managed to swallow threaten to come back up. Yet he was the chief of police and, as such, wielded tremendous power. She was forced to accept the wisdom of not refusing him outright.

“I will give you my answer within the week,” she said, barely able to get the words out.

Greeley straightened, reaching for his hat and gloves. “Then I await your favorable decision.”

She accompanied him into the front hall, the palms of her hands itching from the urge to shove him out the door.

He paused. “I hope you will also give grave consideration to my feelings about accepting any gift from Mona Starr. She is not someone you should encourage.”

Hattie didn’t reply, hoping he would take her silence on the matter as assent. Instead, she strove for a way to smooth things over. “Perhaps you would do me the honor of advising me on a different matter altogether, Chief Greeley. It has been hinted that my husband, Charles, was in the habit of paying the crimps for his sailing crews. Is that correct? Because if so, I will immediately direct Mr. Johnson to rectify the situation.”