“Kinsey Rose Furlong.”
Listening to her name pronounced with such pride, one would think Harlan Garrett had raised the refined Kinsey Rose. With a nod towards the waiter, Scott approved uncorking the second bottle while pondering which interpretation of his cousin would be presented to Phillip Westcott - his grandfather’s version or the truth.
“I have to admit -” Westcott swirled his wine, scrutinizing its tears trailing down the inside of the glass. “I was disappointed to learn Miss Furlong didn’t make the journey to Boston.”
Before Scott could reply, his grandfather responded. “The young woman’s commitment to a lecture in San Francisco -”
“Rally.” Scott’s matter-of-fact tone complimented his innocent smile - widening in competition with Harlan’s eyes. Mystery solved. The intended version would be his grandfather’s...but not if Scott had anything to say about it.
“Pardon?” The question reflected the mere beginnings of Phillip’s confusion.
“It’s more of a rally.” Scott sipped his wine.
“Well, Scotty, if you wish to split hairs then, yes, you could call it a rally. Kinsey is an extremely intelligent girl with a thirst for -”
“Women’s rights.” Scott plopped the last bite of steak into his mouth.
“Oh?” Westcott’s eyes shifted from the grandfather to the grandson - uncertain which to focus on. “You’re referring to the lecture - wait - rally.”
“Yes.” Harlan hissed the word. “However, I’m certain other topics were covered - for example -”
“Stone.” Scott refreshed his drink. Silence from his dinner companions indicated the need for clarification. “Lucy Stone - the keynote speaker at the rally Kinsey attended.”
“Ah.” Westcott raised an eyebrow. “I hear the Stone woman is a real spitfire.”
“So is my little cousin.” Scott chuckled at his own humorous but accurate observation while reviewing the dessert listings.
“Now, Scotty.” Harlan’s jovial manner had taken on a condescending undertone. “You can’t deny Kinsey’s affluent, proper upbringing has made her an outstanding -”
“Handful. Agreed.” Scott nodded once as he set aside the list of choices. “I’m going with the Boston cream pie.”
“Young lady.” A female patron returning to a nearby table froze in place. Harlan slowed his breathing and lowered his voice. “Kinsey is an outstanding young lady.”
“Well, my grandson, Seth, indicates she has a mind of her own. Boston cream pie. Excellent choice. Make it two.”
Harlan swept his hand in front of him. “Yes. Of course.”
“All right!” Westcott motioned to their server. “Three pieces of Boston cream pie.”
“No! Wait.” Dessert orders came to a halt. “I mean…” Harlan paused among the attentive stares. “Yes. Pie will be fine.”
“Very good, sir.” The cheerful waiter concurred. “A wise decision.”
A slight raise of his glass was the only visible sign of Scott silently toasting his grandfather’s one wise decision for the evening.
“Please permit me to finish my thought here.” Regaining his composure, Harlan’s warm smile returned as Scott heard the distant rattle of a snake. “Your grandson is quite astute, Phillip. Kinsey has a mind of her own. A beautiful, bright mind which any young man would consider -”
“Challenging.” Desserts gracefully landed in front of each gentleman. Scott picked up his fork and dug in.
Phillip’s chortle was laced with a hum of amusement. “Most females are a challenge, young man. Is there a brave gentleman in Miss Furlong’s life?”
Harlan clucked his tongue at the notion of only one suitor listed on Kinsey’s dance card. “No serious prospects among the many - unless, Phillip, we could consider -”
“John. John Madrid.” Wiping crumbs from his mouth with a napkin hid Scott’s mischievous smirk.
“No! My grandson is mistaken.” Even under the soft, amber glow of candlelight, Harlan appeared pale.
“Ah, so there is someone capturing the dear girl’s heart.” Westcott first refilled his glass and then the glass of his childhood friend. “Looks like you need a splash of vino, old man. Madrid. I don’t believe I know the family name.”
“I highly doubt Madrid appeared on the Arabella passenger list.” Resting his fork on the plate, Scott decided that was indeed the best piece of Boston cream pie he’d ever eaten.
*******
Once seated in the enclosed carriage with his grandfather, Scott began to mentally count how many seconds before the silence was broken. As he watched a few stray snowflakes hitch a ride on the window, he soon had his answer - ten.
“I was under the impression your headmaster had successfully eradicated your impertinent adolescent behavior years ago.”
“The man practiced corporal punishment, sir, not exorcism.” More flakes joined the first few - the beginnings of a Nor’easter, perhaps.
“Please tell me, Scott, what in God’s name were you trying to prove this evening?”
“Not prove - prevent. I will not allow you to sell Kinsey like a bill of goods.” Focusing on each miniature piece of frozen lace as it stuck to the glass helped Scott keep his temper at bay.
“Your comment is uncalled for. I simply wanted to point out Kinsey’s fine attributes to Phillip. Nothing more. Now - perhaps, in time, if Seth and Kinsey were to -”
“I thought we left arranged marriages behind with Queen Victoria.”
“Stop it.” Harlan spit the words out with such velocity they ricocheted inside the carriage. “You don’t understand.”
“I’m trying.” Scott’s line of sight moved past the flakes on the window to the ones now covering Boston’s streets and walkways. “I’ve been trying to understand you for as long as I can remember.”
“Then understand this.” His grandfather’s voice took on the qualities of granite rock - hard and unyielding. “Kinsey is my second chance to right a wrong. She will be happy. She will be successful. Under my guidance, she’ll be financially secure. And, by God, she will marry the right man from an influential family with an upstanding background. She won’t make the same mistakes my daughter made.”
Scott’s eyes narrowed as he raised his fist to thump on the carriage roof. “Stop!”
“What are you doing?”
“Getting out.” Two more thumps brought the ride to a halt. “The air in here has become old and stale. I’ll walk back.” Opening the door, Scott climbed out and immediately closed off any opportunity for his grandfather to protest. Signaling to the driver above, he watched the carriage lurch forward and clatter down the street.
*********
“Dammit.” With hands on his hips, Scott stared at his clothes and other items he haphazardly scooped out of the dresser drawer and tossed at the open valise on the bed. The decision to leave tonight was made during his walk back to his grandfather’s quiet house. However, second-guessing was now taking hold of the situation.
“Dammit.” Gathering up his belongings, he threw them back into the gaping dresser drawer. They only landed for a moment before the articles were gathered - sailing back to the leather bag to create a pile of clothes in disarray. “Dammit.”
“A dilemma indeed.” Scott spun around to discover Martin standing in the doorway. “Clothes never want to return neatly as when first packed. Is there something I can do to assist you?”
“Yes.” Scott collected his clothes and shoved them back into the dresser drawer. “Wear a pair of squeaky shoes.”
Martin smiled. “Very good, sir. I’ll see what I can do.” Reaching inside his suit coat, he pulled out two envelopes. “These arrived for you earlier today. I didn’t have time to visit Emerson until now.”
Accepting the correspondence from the man’s hand, the telegrams from his brother and cousin were a surprise. They were home - why write? “Thank you. I appreciate your help with these.”
Martin turned to leave. “Change can be messy - but if a man doesn’t rush…”
“Everything will return neatly as before?” Scott smiled.
“Sleep well, sir.” Martin quietly left in search of a pair of different shoes Scott hoped.
Leaning his backside against the room’s small writing desk, he tore open the first envelope.
HOME NAYING FILLY RESTLESS OLD MAN UNHAPPY TIRED OF MAGPIE SONG J
Scott snorted out a laugh. Just as he expected - the influence of a Lucy Stone rally placed Kinsey back up on her soapbox spouting the rights of the fairer sex. Murdoch must be losing his mind. Tearing off the end of the second envelope, Scott removed the piece of paper.
SURROUNDED BY MULES I MISS YOU K
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