––––––––
The next couple of days went well. Lynn remained in the stifling parlor, but stayed calm. She ate a little every day. But she had no more nightmares.
Colleen seemed to have a talent for getting the girls to eat. She'd scramble an egg and divide it between them, dividing it into two tiny tea cups. Or, she would make herself some toast whenever they agreed to have some tea. Then she would slather it with honey, cut in into little triangles, and encourage them to have some with her.
Miranda would make little cups of custard. Both girls seemed to like the sweet, rich concoction. So, she could usually get them to split one. And, so far, as long as they ate slowly, they kept the food down.
But, Victoria noticed that Kathy had progressed from constantly rubbing her hands together, to rubbing her arms. The doctor heard people suffering from opium withdrawal sometimes scratched themselves to the point of drawing blood.
When she next visited Meg, she asked, "When you're in Chicago, could you buy half a dozen pairs of evening gloves? They don't need to be kid, or even silk. Inexpensive cotton gloves will be just fine if you can find them. They just need to be big enough for the girls to pull on easily and cover most of their arms. They don't even need to fit."
"Yes, I suppose," Meg replied. "Why? Wouldn't it be better to at least measure them for the gloves first?"
"No," the doctor answered. "They aren't to wear, exactly. We'll buy them fine, fitted kid gloves for my wedding. These are to help prevent them from scratching themselves."
"Why would they do that?"
"I've read of people suffering from hallucinations while fighting the opium habit. They sometimes believe there are bugs crawling over them, and they can scratch themselves raw trying to get them off. And, Kathy has begun to rub her arms. I want to be prepared.
"That's why I said cotton will be just fine. But, they need to be long, evening gloves to protect the better part of their arms."
"Yes. I'll make Gus promise to take me somewhere to get them for you. I won't forget."
"I'm sure you won't," Victoria told her. "Now, what can I do to help you get ready for Sunday? Even if it's just help packing your trunks."
"Trunks? I wasn't planning on taking one trunk, let alone more than one."
"But, you'll need your blue silk gown and the petticoats that go with it," Victoria said. "I suppose you can get by with just the one trunk since you’ll only be away four or five days.
"Let's see," she continued, "you'll be wearing your best walking suit. So, you can take two or three more shirtwaists. And, you'll need your under things, and shoes."
"Shoes..."
"Well, of course. I assume you’ll wear your boots. You can wear your cloak to travel. But, I have an evening cape and matching bag you can borrow. And, I suppose you'll need a pair of evening gloves. Unless you already have some?"
"I'm assuming you aren't talking about knitted gloves."
"No, I'm not referring to woolen gloves. I mean nice long, evening gloves. But, you don't, do you?"
"No, I don't. There was never a need for evening gloves in North Brookfield."
"So, you'll need the gloves, and another skirt, at least. And, your bridal peignoir." When Meg stared back in shock, Victoria added, "It's just a fancy name for a matching nightgown and robe. Although, they are usually more elaborate and sheer than everyday nightdresses." She laughed and said, "Or, perhaps that should be every night nightdresses."
Blushing, Meg answered, "I don't have a new nightgown. I planned on making myself one. But now I don't have time.” She flushed scarlet, and asked, “What am I to do?"
Victoria patted her friend's hand and said, "Stop worrying. I have a lovely nightgown and robe I've not worn. It was a gift from one of my aunts, in the hope it would make me want to find a husband.
"If you'll agree to make me a new set for my wedding night, you may have that one. How does that sound?"
"But... I couldn't take yours. It was a gift from your aunt."
"Oh, please. I have more elderly aunts than kernels of corn on a cob! And, while it's a beautiful set, it's much more you than me. Besides, if I ever wore it, I'd probably trip over it and break a leg. Not my idea of a way to spend my honeymoon!
"For some reason, my aunts not only think I'll come back to Philadelphia, marry someone 'suitable', and produce a baby a year, but that I'm six inches taller than I am. I think I'll be much happier with a simpler and shorter set."
"Victoria..."
"Please, Meg, don't fight me about this. Seriously, you're getting married in two days. And, you'll look lovely in it. Besides, I have at least two months before I need mine. Please, let me do this for you. You've been nothing but a wonderful, supportive friend since I first met you all when I was barely off the train. Finally I can do something for you."
Margaret sighed. "Maybe this is a bad idea. I know I wanted Reverend Cleary to marry us, but it's all too soon."
"No, it's not," Victoria argued. "You just thought you'd have more time to plan things. I know you, you are a planner. I've seen those lists you write out."
"Well, yes, but I didn't know you thought it amusing."
"I don't. After all, I am too, mostly. But lately I've been seeing that sometimes you need to let things happen without planning for every contingency."
"That's not me," Meg said. "It sounds more like Gus."
Victoria burst into peals of laughter and informed her, "It describes both of you two, to a T!"
*****
"How are you feeling, Lynn?" Colleen asked holding out a cup of steaming tea.
"I'm not cold anymore. But, I'm not sure I want the tea. Thank you, though. I think I'm going to walk around outside for a while. I feel very restless."
"Would you like me to go with you? I could do with some exercise," Colleen said.
"No. I mean, no thank you. I just want to be alone for a while. Please."
"Certainly, Lynn. I just don't want you to feel like you had to go alone. But, it's different that you choose to go alone.
"It's cold out there, so bundle up. You don’t want to get cold again and have poor Jake splitting firewood all night."
"Yes, ma'am."
Colleen carried the cup of tea upstairs to where Kathy was pretending to read. "Here, why don't you drink this while it's still hot?"
"I don't want anything, Miss. I don't feel right. I don't feel ill, but I don't feel right."
"All right, Kathy. Why don't you try to take a nap? You aren't really reading anyway, are you?"
Kathy hung her head down, and answered, "No, ma'am."
"Try to rest and later I'll read to you. Would you like that?"
Kathy smiled and said, "I think I would, Miss, thank you. And I bet Lynn would, too."
Colleen entered the kitchen, still carrying the cup of tea. She set it down and turned to Miranda, who was taking a ham from the ice box.
She said, "I thought I'd slice some off and make ham and eggs for dinner. Would you make the toast?"
"Of course, Miss. But," Colleen paused, "perhaps we should just have scrambled eggs. Kathy isn't feeling 'quite right', and Lynn is restless and walking outside. I think we'll have much more of a chance of getting them to eat, if we keep it to just the scrambled eggs and toast."
"But, surely you'd like something else?"
"Personally, I would love fried ham and eggs, with toast dripping with butter. However, I think we'll be safer to keep food smells to a minimum."
"Yes... I suppose you're right." Miranda looked at the girl and said, "Although, I'm afraid we are going to become tired of a diet of scrambled or soft boiled eggs and toast."
"I suppose you're right, but then the girls will as well. Perhaps, our sticking to scrambled eggs and toast most of the time will show we're going through this with them, if only mentally.
"Besides, maybe we can take turns going into town in pairs, and eat real food at the restaurant now and then. I think the others could manage for a few hours.
"In fact, it's probably a good idea take a break from here, even if it's only for a little while. As the girls get more irrational and unpleasant, all our tempers will be put to the test."
"Yes, that's a good idea. We wouldn't be much use if we're snapping at each other and arguing among ourselves.
"Please remember to say something to the doctor, should I forget."
"Yes, Miss. I will," Colleen replied.
*****
"I've news," Judge Preston told Gus. "And, you won’t like it."
"About what?"
"Judge Williams. The judge who'll be hearing the case."
"Why?"
“Because he's very soft on prostitutes. He thinks legalized brothels would keep the streets 'cleaner' for the general populace.”
"But that can't include brothels staffed by kidnapped children, can it?"
"I would certainly hope not. But I'm not sure. The good news is, he's announced that there will be four trials."
"Four separate trials? I thought they'd all be tried together."
"Yes, so did Harding. Unfortunately for him, his attorney—Clarence—arrived in town a bit late. And Williams had already decided they would all be tried separately.
"There was a battle. At least, that's what I heard. It seems Williams' clerk asked Jim to 'show him the ropes', so to speak. So he couldn't help but be a witness to the shouting match. Apparently it got so bad that Williams threatened to bar him from the trial.
"That would mean he would have to find someone else willing to act as Harding's lawyer in court. But, even without getting Clarence banned from the trial, having them separated is to our advantage. After all, while Mrs. Porter and Mr. Lee probably knew about the murders, or at least, most of them, there's no direct evidence tying them to any of the deaths."
"Oh, please."
"I'm afraid it might even get worse."
"How can it get worse?"
"Williams hinted that if any of them plead guilty, he might allow them to avoid trials and just be sentenced."
"Can he do that?"
"He can."
"But they're bad people. They need to pay for their crimes."
"Well, technically, they will be."
"You know what I mean, Jon!"
"Yes, I do. But really, Gus, it's not as if any of them will be going free. And, I believe that no matter what happens here, Mrs. Porter will be sent back to New Orleans to stand trial for the stabbing death of her... ah... husband."
"Oh, and what if she gets off?"
"She'd still have to serve whatever sentence she's given here."
"And, you're worried this judge will be sympathetic to Harding.
"But," Gus argued, "you can't be serious that this judge—Williams might hinder the trial?"
Judge Preston scowled before he answered, "I'm just warning you he might be more willing to agree with the defense's objections. But, bad as that is, I'm afraid if Harding is found guilty of anything less than murder, he will give him the lightest sentence he can."
"I hope you realize the women are going to take this badly—extremely badly. And, I'm afraid you'll be the one they hold responsible." Gus shook his head and added, "That's not a position I envy you being in."
"Nor I," the judge agreed, "but you're probably right about their anger."
"If it was only one or two, I wouldn't be concerned. But, all five, plus Ma and Eva? We don't stand a chance to escape their combined ire. We'll be lucky if they don't hang us.
"And that's not taking into account how the girls, themselves, will feel about any of this."
"I'm sure you're right," Judge Preston said, "but I don't know what we can do about it, other than just help the prosecuting attorney prepare an airtight case." He went quiet for a minute, before adding, "Of course, he's had more than enough dealings with Clarence already. If the man continues being argumentative in court, Williams might not be so sympathetic.
"In fact, from what Jim told me, it might even be to our advantage."
"Is there any reason you can think of to request a different judge?"
"I can try to come up with one. But, I can't promise it would be successful."
"Well, I'm sure you'll do the best you can. Also, remember you are on your own for the next week," Gus told the older man. "But don't tell anyone, because it's supposed to be a secret. Meg and I are getting married Sunday afternoon and will be gone for several days."
"Yes. Yes, I'll remember."