Pilfered Promises: A Victorian San Francisco Mystery (Victorian San Francisco Mysteries Book 5) by M. Louisa Locke

Author:M. Louisa Locke [Locke, M. Louisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cozy, fantasy, historical, mystery, psychics, romance, victoriana, women sleuths
Publisher: self-published
Published: 2016-07-19T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Wednesday afternoon, December 1, 1880

“RETAIL PRICE LIST: The following are the prices now ruling in the retail markets for articles of general family use. Pineapples 75 cents.”––San Francisco Chronicle October 9, 1880

“If you don’t mind, I will leave you two to go through the room yourselves,” Miss Spencer said as she unlocked the door. “I have a client scheduled for a fitting in a few minutes. When you are finished if you would just stop by the workroom and tell one of my nieces so they can lock up.”

After Miss Spencer left, Kathleen looked around the room and said, “My goodness, this wasn’t what I expected, ma’am.”

“Me neither. When Miss Spencer said that Marie Fournier only came to the shop on Saturdays, usually to work on patterns for the shop’s clients, I imagined a workroom, not this fancy bedroom.”

Kathleen nodded. The room, twice the size of her own bedroom, was beautifully furnished. There was a rocking chair by one of the large windows and a small shelf of books under the other, and a mahogany bedroom set consisting of a large wardrobe, dresser, dressing table, a small writing desk, and a four poster bed.

“Ma’am, are those supposed to be pineapples at the top of the bed posts?” Kathleen walked over and peered at the carvings.

“Yes they are, and if you look closely you will see pineapples are on knobs for the other pieces of furniture.”

“Heavens above. Everything in here must have cost a pretty penny. I’ve only once had a bite of pineapple. Sweet and tart at the same time, but it made my ears itch!”

Mrs. Dawson laughed and said, “Pineapples aren’t everyone’s favorite fruit. I wonder if Marie Fournier’s husband captained a ship that traded with the Sandwich Islands and that’s why she chose that for her decor? It just seems a shame to have this lovely room and only visit it a couple of times a month.”

“Maybe she came here more than that,” Kathleen said, running her fingers across the carved headboard. “Only a slight bit of dust, what you would expect for a room sitting for a week. And the bed’s made.” She picked up the pillow and sniffed. “Linen smells fresh.”

“I agree, this looks like a room that was being used.” Mrs. Dawson went over to pull out dresser drawers. “Look, the bottom drawer has extra sheets and blankets and the top one holds at least a couple sets of underthings and a nightdress.”

Kathleen lightly touched the chemises, corset covers, drawers, and slips, all made of fine cotton. The nightgown felt like silk and was a dark blue that matched the room’s curtains. Next to her, Mrs. Dawson was opening the wardrobe door, revealing several beautiful dresses, along with an elaborately embroidered wrapper that matched the nightgown.

She had a sudden image of this hard-working woman, who spent all day sewing for rich ladies, sitting in the rocking chair, late at night, sewing these exquisite garments. Just for herself?

“Ma’am, do you think that Miss Spencer would tell us if Mrs.

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