“Ma’am!” Sara protested, spying the contents of the carriage. “You can’t possibly mean to bring him into our home!”
“That is precisely what I intend. Mr. Lewis may have suffered this beating because of what I asked of him. It’s our responsibility to see that he gets the care he needs. Now, go!”
The housekeeper fled, and Hattie turned back to Mona. “Can your coachman help us carry him inside?”
“Of course.” Mona walked to the front of the carriage and gave a quiet order. “Frank was doing your bidding when this happened?” she asked as they waited for the man to climb down.
“Yes, he was looking into a business matter for me.”
“So you might know who did this—or ordered it done.”
“I have a very good idea, yes,” Hattie replied, her fury building. “Rest assured that I intend to have a word with Chief Greeley.”
The coachman had opened the opposite door of the carriage and positioned himself at Frank’s head. With Hattie and Mona holding Frank’s legs, they eased him out of the carriage and onto the ground.
The coachman leaned down and gently lifted him in his arms. “Where to, ma’am?”
Hattie directed him through the back door, then up two flights of stairs to a room under the eaves. He lowered Frank to the cot Sara had just finished hastily making up, shifting his body to a more comfortable position.
Hattie surveyed the room, mentally rearranging the secondhand furniture to create a small but functional infirmary. If she left the door open to the floor below, heat would make its way up the stairs and keep the room comfortably warm. Frank would be safe, yet well concealed. If anyone made a social call, he or she would be none the wiser.
Sara handed her a blanket, which she shook out and draped carefully over Frank. He hadn’t stirred since he’d been removed from the carriage. She turned to Sara, who hovered, sneaking curious glances at Mona. “Prepare a basin of warm water, along with some clean rags, and bring them to me.”
“Yes, ma’am. The girls are on their way to Dr. Willoughby’s, ma’am.”
“Good.” Hattie glanced at Mona. “There’s nothing more we can do for the moment. If you’d be kind enough to follow me down to the second-floor parlor while we await the physician’s arrival, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Mona inclined her head. “Of course.” Turning to the coachman, she ordered him to wait for her in the carriage.
They descended the stairs, Hattie motioning for Mona to precede her into the small, comfortably furnished room in which Sara kept a fire lit most evenings. Moving to a side table that held a tray of crystal glasses and a decanter, she poured Mona a glass of sherry. Hattie indicated they should sit in the two Murphy rocking chairs in front of the fireplace.
“Now, tell me everything you know,” Hattie said. “Where did you find Frank? Did anyone witness the attack?”
“My butler found him in back of our house around midafternoon.” Mona adjusted the skirts of her brocade gown, then leaned back in the rocker, her beringed fingers gently tapping on the rocker’s arm. “Booth asked the merchants in the immediate vicinity, but no one admitted to hearing or seeing anything unusual.”
“Could Frank have been beaten in a different location, then dumped at your establishment?”
Mona frowned as she lifted her glass from the small table between them and took a sip of sherry. “Possibly, yes. It does make sense that Frank would’ve been attacked on the wharf—he rarely comes to our block during the day.”
“And an alley sees less traffic, thus ensuring that it would’ve taken longer for someone to discover him.”
“Yes.”
So whoever had beaten him had possibly meant for him to die of his injuries, Hattie surmised. “Do you employ anyone who could ask around the wharf without raising too much suspicion? I would like to know anything he can discover about the attack—the number of people involved, whether any of them were recognized. I might be able to track them based on their employment to the person who ordered the attack.”
“Booth can make inquiries, yes, but to what end?” Mona turned concerned eyes on her. “I would strongly advise that you not pursue this—to do so could be very dangerous.”
“But I must know whether this attack is related to my business,” Hattie insisted, then voiced her deepest fear. “And what of the possibility that Frank doesn’t recover?”
“If the worst happens, then you’ll send word and I’ll make plans to remove his body to a location where it will be discovered by the authorities,” Mona replied. “One more body, discovered on the waterfront, will be of no consequence. When you report this to Greeley, do not tell him of Frank’s whereabouts until we can be certain he will recover. You must protect yourself from falling under suspicion in the event that Frank dies.”
Hattie shuddered, though she knew Mona was only being pragmatic.
“Your physician will be discreet?” Mona pressed.
During Hattie’s past interactions with Willoughby, she’d found him to be rather proper, with a grandfatherly manner. He and Charles had been acquaintances though not close friends. “Dr. Willoughby is likely to believe Frank’s presence in my house is inappropriate.”
“Can his silence be bought?” Mona asked bluntly.
Hattie thought about the stacks of cash in the library. If need be, she would use that cash to ensure Frank’s safety. “I’ll double his usual fee in return for a promise of discretion.”
“Then we’ll hope for the best. As soon as Frank can be safely moved to the Green Light, contact me and I will return for him.”
Hattie nodded, then hesitated. “I’d like to ask you about comments you made the night of the fire, if I may?” When Mona showed no signs of objection—other than a slight return of wariness in her expression—Hattie continued. “You indicated that my husband, Charles, wasn’t a nice man. Precisely what did you mean by that?”
Mona studied her in silence, then seemed to come to a decision. “He beat one of my girls so bad she couldn’t work for weeks.”
Hattie swallowed, chilled despite the blazing fire. “You’re certain? I can’t believe—Charles would never have treated a woman that way!”
“You mean he wouldn’t have treated you that way, and you’d be right. He saved his more savage appetites for my girls.” Mona leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Remember the young girl who brought you the blankets the night of the fire? The one who was so timid in your presence? You must have noticed the freshly healed cuts and burns on her face and arms.”
At Hattie’s reluctant nod, Mona continued. “Charles and his man, Clive Johnson, asked to share Isobel one evening. At that time, Isobel was relatively new to the trade, and she still retained an air of fragile innocence that appealed to many of my customers. Of course, I agreed to Charles’s request.”
Hattie’s eyes widened. “You mean, two men with one woman, at the same time?”
Mona looked momentarily amused. “We don’t place limits on the sexual practices of our customers. My girls are trained to accept and enjoy all our customers’ predilections, no matter how unusual.”
“Of course,” Hattie said faintly.
She’d heard the girls in the Boston clinic giggle about odd requests from their customers, but she had no firsthand knowledge of such things. The fact that her husband had participated in them stunned her. Though now that she thought about it, many of the young men in town visited the brothels, and perhaps this was part of the allure.
“This wasn’t the first time Charles had brought along his business manager for a ménage, of course.” Each of Mona’s words fell like a blow. “And though I’d had to warn him once in the past when he’d gotten overly rough, he’d been more circumspect since then, so I wasn’t concerned. But this time he and Johnson went too far.” Mona stopped for a moment, then shook her head. “If another girl hadn’t heard Isobel’s screams and come to find me, I’ve no doubt Isobel would’ve been killed.”