Caught by Surprise Page 2

  “It’s apothecary,” Temperance called before she could stop herself, the words echoing eerily around the interior of the coffin.

  Dead silence was all that greeted her until someone cleared their throat.

  “You reckon’ that’s God talking to us, Mercy?”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Eugene. The voice came from the coffin.”

  “Ah, right. That makes more sense, but if that there lady has woken up from her stupor, you’d best stop calling me Eugene. I’ll be . . . ah . . . Thurman and you can be . . . Dolly.”

  “I ain’t being no Dolly. I knew a Dolly years ago, and she was a nasty piece of work. I’ll be Vivian because that’s a right fine name and I always wanted me a right fine name.”

  Wanting to laugh even though she was in a most precarious situation, Temperance resisted that urge right as heavy footsteps began trudging her way. The next thing she knew, an eye was peering at her through one of the holes that had evidently been drilled through her prison to allow her to breathe.

  “How ya feelin’ in there?”

  “How would you feel if you were entombed in a coffin while you’re still living?” she shot back.

  The eye disappeared, replaced with a different eye, one obviously belonging to the other kidnapper. “You being in that coffin is all on account of my, er, partner being heavy-handed with a sleeping potion. Just so you know, if you hadn’t put up such a fight, he wouldn’t have been forced to use it.”

  “Surely you’re not about to blame me for my current predicament, are you?”

  “’Course I am. You’ve given us all sorts of trouble, and it was only because me and Eu . . . er . . . What did you say your name was going to be again?”

  “It’s Thurman and you’re Dolly.”

  The eye disappeared. “I’m Vivian.”

  “That’s a high-society name.”

  “Since we’re about to stay at that high-society Palmer House hotel, Vivian’s as good as any name.”

  A second later, the eye returned to peer down at her. “Where was I?”

  Swallowing yet another unexpected laugh, Temperance cleared her throat, realizing as she did so that her throat was remarkably dry, probably since she’d apparently been rendered unconscious for hours upon end.

  “I believe you were about to impart the inspiration behind spiriting me out of New York in a coffin.”

  “So I was, and that inspiration was all due to Thurman remembering what happened to the unfortunate A.T. Stewart.”

  “Are we talking about the A.T. Stewart who was the founder of A.T. Stewart & Company?”

  “That’s the man.”

  “I don’t believe Mr. Stewart sold coffins at his store,” Temperance said slowly.

  “Of course he didn’t. Eugene, I mean Thurman, thought of him because we once heard tell that Mr. Stewart done got his body stolen and held for ransom.”

  “I’m familiar with what happened to poor Mr. Stewart, although I do want to point out that his body wasn’t stolen in a coffin, but stolen from a coffin, which was then left behind,” Temperance said. “I also feel compelled to point out that Mr. Stewart, God rest his soul, was dead when his body was stolen and held for ransom. Obviously, I’m not dead, and I do hope you’re not intending to kill me to remain true to the ransom scenario that followed Mr. Stewart’s abduction.”

  “We’re not intending to kill you,” Mercy returned. “But getting back to Mr. Stewart—you don’t mean to tell me that some fool broke into his vault and took only his body, do you? I’ve been close to a deceased person before and the smell is most unpleasant.”

  Feeling slightly reassured by the notion her abductors didn’t seem keen to kill her and seemed squeamish about horrible smells, Temperance lifted a hand, pushing on a coffin lid that refused to move. “I’m afraid that’s exactly what happened to Mr. Stewart,” she finally said, annoyance flowing over her that she had in fact been nailed securely into her prison. “Although I believe the criminals who stole his body have yet to be found.”

  “That’s good to know,” Mercy muttered.

  “I’m sure you are comforted by the idea criminals occasionally do roam free. But, getting back to my specific situation, while I’m not exactly in a position to argue with the manner in which you chose to spirit me out of the city, allow me to point out what I see as a flaw with your plan. I’m, thankfully, not dead, and as such, I’m afraid I have certain needs that a corpse would not have, such as the need to use a retiring room. I’m also going to need to be fed at some point. In addition to those concerns, I must tell you that the walls of my prison will soon begin to close in on me, and when that happens, I know I’ll be unable to stifle the screams that my fear of being in closed confines is certain to bring about.”

  “It wouldn’t be a wise choice for you to start screamin’.”

  Exasperation had Temperance rolling her eyes, not that anyone could see that, but it did seem to suit the moment. “Since I’m enclosed in a coffin, I’m not certain there’s much you’re going to be able to do to stop my screams, not if you truly don’t mean to kill me.”

  “Seems to me like we got ourselves a smart one, Vivie.”

  The eye disappeared once again. “It’s Vivian, and it don’t matter if she’s a smart one. What does matter is we’ve got to figure us out a new plan of what to do next.”

  For the next few minutes, all Temperance could hear was the sound of muffled voices that occasionally rose above a whisper as what was undoubtedly an argument turned increasingly heated. Finally, and after one of her abductors let out a snort of disgust, heavy footsteps trudged back to the coffin and an eye appeared back at the hole.

  “We’re going to let you out, but no funny business. We might not be keen to murder you, but giving you a few knocks over the head won’t bother us a’tall.”

  With those less-than-comforting words, someone began applying what had to be a crowbar to the coffin, but before the lid could be lifted away, the man now going by the name of Thurman began to speak.

  “We best be putting on our disguises, Mercy. It won’t do us no good if she gets a look at our faces.”

  “It also won’t do us no good if you keep forgetting to call me Vivian.”

  “It’s not going to do either one of you any good if I end up losing my last meal due to the queasiness I’m beginning to feel over still being stuck in this box,” Temperance yelled.

  “Give us a moment.”

  A moment was all it took for her abductors to evidently don their disguises, and with a sense of relief slipping over her, Temperance watched as the lid was pried away, squinting when light immediately blinded her. Raising a hand to shield her eyes, she pushed herself to a sitting position, then felt her mouth drop open when she got her first look at her surroundings.

  She was in a Pullman car, and a nicely appointed Pullman car at that.

  An honest-to-goodness chandelier hung directly above her head, while a divan upholstered in green velvet, paired with matching chairs on either side of it, was placed directly underneath the side window of the train. The bright sunlight streaming through that window suggested it was either late morning or early afternoon. Switching her attention to the other side of the room, she found her abductors watching her warily.

  One of the abductors was a large man, the one who’d abducted her off the street, his face hidden beneath the same mask he’d had on when he’d jumped out of the carriage back on Broadway. The other abductor was clearly a woman, small in stature and thin, with a face covered in fake whiskers, those whiskers having been slapped on her face rather haphazardly since the mustache she was wearing was lopsided and her beard was hanging from the edge of her chin.

  “Goodness but you look a fright,” the woman said as she looked Temperance up and down, scratching her nose as she did so. “There’s a retiring room just behind that small door over there, and there’s a washstand right outside the door. You might ought to make use of it.”

  Temperance inclined her head. �
��Sound advice to be sure, but first I’m going to need help getting out of here.”

  The large man, evidently named Eugene even though he was trying to go by Thurman, nodded and shuffled across the room on heavy-soled boots. He came to a stop right in front of her and surprised Temperance by presenting her with his hand. Taking that hand, she struggled to push herself past the high walls of the coffin. Her struggle was interrupted when Eugene plucked her straight up into his arms and set her down. He steadied her when her legs wobbled, then took hold of her arm and practically pushed her across the Pullman car, stopping in front of a narrow door she assumed led to the retiring room.

  “Just give a holler if you need anything else.” With that, he turned around and strode to the other side of the car, presenting her with his back—a chivalrous response even though the retiring room was equipped with a door.

  Thankful she was being allowed a moment of privacy, Temperance slipped into the small retiring room, closed the door firmly behind her, and immediately began trying to plot out an avenue of escape.

  Chapter

  Two

  After spending as long as she dared in the tiny retiring room the Pullman car offered, Temperance was forced to concede defeat in formulating a viable escape plan.

  The reality of her situation was that she was on a rapidly moving train. The chances of survival if she did fling herself out the door of the train were not in her favor, which made her current situation very bleak indeed.

  However, because she was not a lady prone to wasting her time dwelling on futile matters, Temperance decided the only prudent option was to wait until they reached Chicago and then hope an avenue of escape would present itself.

  Deciding a sensible use of her time would be to wriggle out information from her abductors, Temperance reached for the door handle and stepped from the retiring room. Her gaze slid over the well-appointed interior and settled on her two captors. They were sitting at a small table covered in fine linen, slurping their way through steaming cups of tea held in delicate china teacups.

  Frowning, she took a single step toward them, then paused. “Forgive me for disrupting your tea, but isn’t it a little unusual for kidnappers to whisk their captives away in a private Pullman car? My father, God rest his soul, purchased a Pullman car for his personal use, and I distinctly recall him remarking that the cost of such luxury was prohibitive.”

  Mercy stopped slurping. “Don’t be nosey. It ain’t becoming in a woman, and besides, the less you know, the better it’ll go for you in the end.” She gestured to the pot sitting on the table. “Tea?”

  Temperance lifted her chin. “I’d rather have answers.”

  “Answers ain’t what I offered you. If you don’t want tea, that’s all well and good, but it is delicious. Thurman just fetched this pot from the dining car. From what I’ve been told, tea is a drink best served hot.”

  “Unless it’s iced tea,” Eugene added before he returned his attention back to his own cup. He evidently found his tea delicious as well since he began smacking his lips after every slurp.

  Realizing her captors were not in an accommodating frame of mind to provide her with answers to her many questions, while also realizing her throat was remarkably dry, Temperance moved to the washstand. She took a moment to scrub her hands under the flowing water coming from the spigots, noticing as she did so that she’d lost her gloves somewhere along the way. After splashing a few handfuls of water over her face, she patted dry with a fluffy towel she found on the shelf underneath the basin, then set aside the towel and dared a look in the mirror.

  The image staring back at her was not unexpected given what she’d been through over the past hours.

  Her hair, not quite black but darker than brown, was flattened on the right side of her head, while strands on the left side had escaped their pins and were sticking out in a haphazard fashion. Her forehead sported an angry-looking scratch, and her ivory skin, something her mother always claimed lent Temperance the appearance of a porcelain doll, was blotchy and anything other than porcelain-like.

  Dark circles rimmed the delicate skin underneath green eyes, that, upon closer reflection, were bloodshot and itchy, no doubt a direct result of being enclosed in a dusty coffin.

  Dropping her head, she refused a wince when she took in the sight of what had been a lovely periwinkle walking dress, but was now a mess of wrinkles and dirt.

  A trickle of temper stole through her as she lifted her head and settled her attention once again on the two people who’d been responsible for ruining one of the dresses she’d only recently purchased, using money she earned from teaching.

  “I do hope that along with having the funds available to travel in style, you also have funds at your disposal that will see me compensated for the damage done to my garment. I doubt it’ll ever look the same, and I’ll have you know, I’ve worn it only a handful of times.”

  Unfortunately, everything she said was completely ignored since Mercy and Eugene had pulled out what looked to be a veritable feast from a wicker basket, complete with bread, cheese, fruit, and a variety of covered dishes.

  The sight of that feast caused her stomach to rumble. Accepting yet another defeat, Temperance squared her shoulders and marched her way across the Pullman car. Darting around the coffin, she pulled a chair up to the small table and took a seat, finally attracting the attention of her abductors as she got settled.

  “Did you not see the hairbrush?” was the first question Mercy asked, her gaze fixed squarely on Temperance’s head.

  Temperance forced a smile even as she took a linen napkin, snapped it open, placed it over her lap, then nodded. “I did see the brush, but I simply have more important matters to deal with than setting my hair to rights. If you’ve forgotten, I was stolen straight off the street as I was making my way to Miss Snook’s School for the Education of the Feminine Mind. Because I have yet to puzzle out why you would have done such a peculiar thing, making certain that every hair is in place is not high on my list of priorities.”

  Mercy set down a piece of cheese she’d been about to eat. “You don’t have even a single hair in place, if you want my honest opinion.” She frowned. “But hair aside, why would a lady like you be visiting a school like Miss Snook’s? From what I’ve heard, that’s a place that teaches folks new skills so they can earn themselves an honest wage. Gets them out of those positions in the big houses where a poor soul is expected to toil for hours and hours for next to no money.” She shot a look at Eugene, wincing when he sent her a scowl in return. “Not that we know anything about those sorts of poor souls.”

  Accepting the cup of tea Eugene was sliding her way across the table and pretending she didn’t notice the tea was sloshing over the rim and staining the fine linen, Temperance raised the cup, took a larger sip than was considered proper, then took another as delicious warmth soothed her dry throat and began settling a stomach that was slightly queasy. Before she could answer Mercy’s question, though, Eugene spoke up.

  “I done bet she offers up her time at that school like some ladies offer up their time feeding the poor, Vivian. That’s probably why we was instructed to take good care of her and treat her with a good dose of respect because she’s one of those rare ladies who are kind and not full of themselves.”

  Temperance took another sip of tea before abandoning her cup. “First of all, enough of this Vivian and Thurman business. I know you’re really Eugene and Mercy, siblings as well if I were to hazard a guess given the amount of bickering between you. It’s confusing an already ridiculous situation by having the two of you using assumed names. Second, I hardly believe you’ve taken good care of me since you, Eugene, threw me over your shoulder and tossed me into a carriage, and none too gently, may I say. Also, nailing a lady into a coffin is not what one might consider to be an act of great respect. I’ll probably suffer nightmares for years after what I’ve experienced at your hands.”

  Eugene’s eyes narrowed behind the mask he was wearing. “Y
ou don’t strike me as the nightmare suffering sort. And just so you know, it’s not gonna do you no good to point out things such as figuring out our names. That could get you killed good and proper, it could.”

  “It’ll be difficult to kill me now that you’ve invited me to join you in tea,” Temperance said, accepting a plate filled with cheese and bread that Mercy was shoving her way. “And, if I’ve figured out anything at all, it’s that you two don’t seem to be very experienced at this abduction business, which makes me wonder what you did to get released from your positions at Mrs. Baldwin’s house in the first place.”

  Mercy leaned forward. “We never mentioned nothin’ about us working for Mrs. Baldwin.”

  “Before you realized I was awake, I heard the two of you talking. I distinctly recall one of you saying something about having a hard time hearing the sermons at the fancy church Mrs. Baldwin made you attend before you were released from service. I know for fact the Baldwin family enjoys services at Grace Church, which is about the fanciest church New York City has to offer.”

  Silence settled around the Pullman car as Mercy sat back in her seat but not before she sent Eugene a look that could only be called significant, a look that had him leaning forward.

  “You’re an odd sort of society lady, ain’t you?” Eugene asked as Mercy immediately jumped back into the conversation before Temperance had an opportunity to respond.

  “She is odd, Eugene, and nothin’ like them society chits we’re used to. Now that I think on it, I find myself wonderin’ why it is that she ain’t experiencing those fits of the vapors young ladies seem to enjoy, ’specially since we done stole her and are whiskin’ her away from her home, something I don’t reckon’ society ladies experience often or at all.”

  Seeing absolutely no benefit in engaging in the conversation because trying to defend a person’s oddness never amounted to anything productive, Temperance spread some butter on a piece of bread, popped it into her mouth, then stifled the urge to take the entire loaf and wolf it down. Swallowing the bread, she took another piece, noticing as she did that Eugene and Mercy didn’t appear bothered in the least that she wasn’t participating in what was turning into a rousing conversation. In fact, they almost seemed to have forgotten she was sitting with them at the table.