Friends and Lovers by Joan Smith Page A

see the children, nor were they sent down to visit us. Menrod had other things on his mind. He was busy getting his local mistress packed off. We learned from Mr. Everett that Mrs. Livingstone had left the neighborhood very suddenly.
    “I cannot imagine what accounts for it,” he said, inserting a gold toothpick he carries in his pocket into his mouth, but only to gnaw on it. He is not so vulgar as to put it to its rightful use in a polite sitting room. “You would think when he has had all the expense of keeping her here year round, he would not send her away when he finally comes to make a visit, and would have some use from her.”
    “It is clear why he did it. He is trying to whitewash his character, to hide from Chancery that he is a rake,” I explained.
    “Mr. Culligan thinks...” Mama said, with a determined set to her features.
    “Would you care for a cup of tea, Mr. Everett?” I intervened swiftly.
    “That would be dandy.”
    Shortly after we had taken tea, he left, and shortly after he left, Menrod arrived, alone.
    “Good afternoon. Why did you not bring the children with you?” I asked.
    “What I have to say is not for young ears. Yours will be burning before I am done,” he cautioned. Mama gave a few longing looks at the door, but kept to her chair.
    “Please do not feel it necessary to speak to us about having turned off your mistress,” I answered loftily. “It was well done of you to remove your Magdalene from the parish. Futile to your purpose, but well done. Her three-year residence will be sufficient to establish your character, without actually having her on hand.”
    “These efforts you have undertaken to establish my base character had better stop, or you will be extremely sorry.”
    “You heard that threat, Mama, in case any corroboration should be necessary in court?” I mentioned to my mother.
    “I must speak to Pudge,” was the support I received from her. She got out of her chair so fast she nearly tripped on her skirts. It was not necessary for Menrod to arise, as he had not yet taken a seat. He found it more intimidating to stand glowering above me, throwing his arms about wildly.
    “It is not an empty threat,” he announced, his dark eyes afire with anger. “If that weasel of a Culligan comes snooping around my home again, asking impertinent questions of my servants, he will receive the thrashing he deserves. You are his employer. I hold you responsible for this outrage.”
    “Do have a seat, Menrod. You can rant as well sitting down.” He cast an angry glance on me, then sat down. “Now perhaps you will tell me what you are talking about.”
    “I am talking about your employee questioning my servant girls regarding my behavior to them—whether I have ever forced them to have relations with me, whether I beat them, pay them their salaries, and other such questions as are an insult to a man of honor. If he were worth killing, I would call him out. I would not lower myself to take him so seriously.”
    “I see.” My suspicions were confirmed; despite my strict orders not to pursue this unsavory course, Culligan had done it. “Is it outraged innocence or is it guilt that has you in this almighty pelter? It is a strong reaction, surely, to speak of a challenge.”
    “I will not have my integrity impugned in this unspeakable manner. You will call off your mutt or be liable for the consequences. It is entirely up to you, but I tell you in all earnestness, Miss Harris, if another incident of this sort occurs, you will be sued for slander.”
    “From what you tell me, you were not accused of anything. Can it possibly be illegal to ask a question?”
    “Such questions as were posed to my people were an assault on my good name. The very fact of their being raised gives rise to doubts. They are simple, innocent folks, and when the questions are also the subject of gossip in town, where Culligan has been prying, it lends a hint of substance to them.”
    “I daresay Mrs.