31 Bond Street Part 13

"It's a cure for my rheumatism, just as my doctor says." Alice sat with her legs loose in front of her, her skirts askew. She leaned over and stretched her legs out, and as she did so, she became unbalanced and toppled sideways, falling right off the crate.

"Get up, and give me the keys, I say!" ordered Emma. Alice scrambled to her feet and tottered toward Emma at the stairs. Alice clutched her ap.r.o.n and pulled the large ring from its pocket, clasping the key ring to her breast, in a challenge.

"Give them to me!"

"You always wanted these keys, now, didn't you?"

Emma rushed toward her and s.n.a.t.c.hed the keys. She abruptly slapped Alice across the face. Alice shrieked and toppled forward onto the bottom stair. She sat on the stair, holding her hand to her face, mumbling curses. Emma declared, "I am dismissing you immediately, for drunken conduct. You are rude and insubordinate. I want you out of this house."

"Dismiss me? I should speak with the Doctor, first, so I might tell him how you was spying on his meetings, and stepping out of bounds, all over this house."

"Go upstairs!" said Emma. Alice gripped the banister and crawled forward up the rickety staircase with Emma behind her. When they reached the top, Emma opened the back door to the yard and pushed Alice out, who stumbled into the cold. Emma stepped out after her, pointing to the back gate.

Alice stood, s.h.i.+vering in the yard, where the snow was drifted against the fences. She let out a loose, petulant cry and rubbed her face, as if the combination of the cold air and the sting of the slap had stunned her sober.

"Be gone, before I fetch the police."

Alice turned and stumbled toward the back gate, whining, "There's a better place to work than here, I declare. There is many a lady who wants my services. I shall be placed in a finer home than this," she said, staggering toward the alley.

Back inside, Emma closed the door to the yard. She walked into the pantry and was about to enter the kitchen when she heard someone speaking through the door.

"And what about the water?" It was the voice of the lady she had seen upstairs in the hall.

"There is a sink with a pump to the cistern in the back," answered Dr. Burdell, who was in the kitchen as well. What was he doing there? He never entered the kitchen.

"No running pipes from the street? Well, it is a s.p.a.cious kitchen and I have made do with less. And it's a good cook that keeps a house in shape, I always say."

"Hannah is a formidable cook," replied Dr. Burdell. "She works from five in the morning to ten o'clock at night, except Sunday, when she leaves after a midday meal."

"I do my best, sir," said Hannah. "Even when my provisions are low."

"What about the lady who has the position, now?" asked the woman.

"She will be leaving shortly," said Dr. Burdell.

"Is there any problem?"

"No, no problem. She will be sailing for Europe, any day now, with her daughters."

"Europe! Well, some say it's a superior place, but I don't understand why some folks aren't happy with what they find here at home."

"Mrs. Stansbury, if you are interested in moving here, I have prepared a lease for your use of the upstairs floors, in exchange for your housekeeping duties."

"Now that I have seen the whole house, I am certain I shall be happy here. My husband is getting on in years, and he will be most comfortable. I shall bring him by tomorrow to look over the lease and to sign it."

"Very well," said Dr. Burdell, and Emma heard them exit the kitchen, their footsteps pounding as they went up the stairway above her head. There was no exit from the pantry except through the kitchen, unless she went out to the backyard and followed the alley out to Bond Street, and then reentered the front door. Emma pondered the conversation-she was going to Europe? She let several moments elapse and then stepped through the kitchen door.

Hannah looked up at her, with a mirthful look on her face. "I didn't know you was going on a trip, Mrs. Cunningham," she said.

"Oh, keep your mouth shut, Hannah." Emma took a market basket from the kitchen table, and grabbed her hooded cloak, which hung on a peg. She rushed out of the kitchen and left under the stoop, heading to the Bowery.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

May 6, 1857 Henry Clinton pa.s.sed through City Hall Park on his way to the courthouse. The cherry blossoms gave off a heady fragrance and the white marble columns on the facade of City Hall glistened through the branches. Clinton stopped next to the fountain to tie his shoe as cool water flowed through lion's head medallions into a sequence of bronze pools. In the sequestered stillness of the early morning, one got the impression that civic life was still conducted in a sylvan glade in Ancient Greece.

At the courthouse steps, he dropped a penny in the hand of a newsboy. Heading inside, he scanned the headlines, all of them about the trial. "Prosecution's case continues with Servants to testify today." Near the bottom of the page, his eye caught a single item: "Abraham Oakey Hall a Mayoral Nominee; Party Leaders s.h.i.+ft support from Mayor Wood." Although the mention was small, Clinton was astonished by the brashness of the timing. It was as if the party leaders were antic.i.p.ating a win by way of a verdict for the prosecution. Clinton snapped the paper shut and dashed up the steps.

In the defendant's room, Emma sat at a table, waiting for the court session to begin. A group of stocky matrons hovered. "Will it be much like yesterday?" she asked Clinton as he arrived, referring to the long day inside the courtroom.

"Today, the servants are at the top of the roster," said Clinton. "This will be more difficult. Try not to show emotion, even if you think they are not telling the truth." It was best that her face was hidden under a veil, for the strain of these months in jail was clearly wearing her down. The jury would be searching for signs of guilt, ready to read into her slightest expression a vision of Lady Macbeth, wringing her hands in blood.

An officer announced it was time to enter the court. Emma carefully positioned the veil over her head and headed to the courtroom with Augusta and Helen. In their seats, they sat with their hands clasped together, each girl in her fas.h.i.+onable garb, a somber veiled figure between them.

Clinton sat at the defense table as the courtroom buzzed with the preparations of spectators anxiously struggling for seats. The preliminaries were delivered and silence descended. The court crier announced the first witness: Hannah Conlon. As she positioned herself into the chair, she looked like a cook, even without an ap.r.o.n. She had a ruddy face and wore a clean gingham dress. Her white fluted collar was the only indication that she was not spending the day in the kitchen. She crossed her palms, as if sitting for a portrait. Uncomfortably elevated in the witness box, she appeared determined to mimic the airs and manners of her superiors.

Oakey Hall slowly led Hannah through the familiar details of the crime, how the servant boy arrived and screamed for her to run upstairs; how Mrs. Cunningham and her daughters ran downstairs at the commotion; how Augusta dropped dead away in a faint; and how no one had the presence of mind to send the boy out to find help, except Hannah herself. She shuddered at the memory, clasping her hand to her heart. "Oh, Lord," she said, crossing herself, "it was the very worst calamity."

"Did Mrs. Cunningham attempt to go to his aid, or to a.s.sist him in any way?"

"She didn't weep. There was no move to go near him. I don't know if she expected me to go to him, but I could see that his head was nearly unattached. The blood was running ankle deep. There was nothing anyone could do, that was plain to see." Spectators in the gallery gasped.

"Did she appear mournful, or distraught?"

"I recollect her words, she said 'I saw him before suppertime, just last night.'"

"And she stated this calmly?"

"She said it matter of fact, that was all. Like she didn't have a care in the world. She didn't even send the boy to the precinct house." There was the hint of an Irish roll to her r's, but she was straining to suppress them. Clinton listened, glancing at Emma. Her hands were now at her lap, twisting and retwisting a handkerchief.

Oakey Hall continued his interrogation of the cook, and her observations of the household. Hannah was dogged in her presentation, outlining the ch.o.r.es and routines and insisting at every chance that she was overworked, and making her resentment against her mistress plain. Hall swaggered back and forth in his peg trousers, his blond pompadour oiled and waved. He had the habit of patting his cravat, to make sure it was securely tucked into his vest, like a bird puffing his colors. He deftly moved the witness through the sequence of the events and the jury remained alert.

"Did Dr. Burdell bring a visitor into the kitchen, on the day that he died?"

"He did, sir, a lady was coming in to look at the house, Dr. Burdell was showing her all the rooms."

"And where did you see her?"

"She came into the kitchen, and she said that she would be pleased to take the rooms upstairs and to take Mrs. Cunningham's place."

"Did Dr. Burdell or the lady say why she was replacing Mrs. Cunningham?"

"Why, he said she was leaving on a long trip, faraway, to Europe, I believe."

"Would you state Mrs. Cunningham's manner and appearance, later on that night, on the evening of January thirty-first?"

"Well, she appeared regular, but she came down to kitchen earlier than usual and ordered me to go to bed."

"At what time?"

"It was about ten o'clock and I had much work to finish up in the kitchen."

"And did you go up to your room at that time?"

"Well, I had myself the rest of the pork, and I went upstairs at ten thirty."

Hall repeatedly inquired on the point, as to why she was asked to retire early, with Hannah repeating herself, until the Judge finally intervened, saying, "We have heard from the witness sufficiently on this matter." After more questions about Hannah's sleep patterns and her insistence that she heard no noises all night, Hall finally retired the witness.

Clinton stood. He aimed to conduct a swift cross-examination without appearing to be unsympathetic to the cook. He knew that with every question, the jury would be pondering his intent. By questioning less, he caused them to ponder deeper.

"Mrs. Conlon," began Clinton, "did Dr. Burdell discuss his daily plans with you?"

"Why no, sir, he didn't come to the kitchen much at all, that was the housemistress's job."

"Did he discuss his business or his travel with you?"

"No, sir, I was not privy."

"Did he discuss any travel arrangements he was making with Mrs. Cunningham, to go to Europe together, perhaps?"

"Why no, I didn't hear nothing about that."

"Now, you said that Mrs. Cunningham came to the kitchen on the evening of January thirty-first. Was she expecting Dr. Burdell home at his usual time?"

"He usually returned by eleven o'clock, and she told me to fill the water basin."

"She asked you to put fresh water in Dr. Burdell's basin?"

"She asked me to carry up the water, and place it in his water basin on my way to bed. It wasn't my duty, but there was no chambermaid." Hannah sniffed.

"Did you take the fresh water upstairs?"

"I did. I filled a pitcher and I carried it all the way upstairs and placed it in his water closet in the hall."

"Did you see Mrs. Cunningham after that?"

"I saw her in her bedroom as I pa.s.sed by on my way to the attic. Her door was open, and she was packing some things."

"Did she say anything else to you?"

"No, she just bade me good night. She called out, 'Good night, Hannah.'"

"Thank you, Ma'am, that is all," said Clinton, nodding and turning quickly to his seat; his only intention was to show that a person's actions could be given sinister overtones, or simply be seen as part of an everyday routine.

Next, the chambermaid was called. Alice Donahoe stepped up, wiry, her lanky hair topped by a Sunday hat. As Hall queried the witness, he sprinkled artificial flatteries among his questions with his elongated drawl, appearing to show the housemaid respect. He asked about her duties and about the layout of the house. "During your period working at 31 Bond Street, did you ever have any difficulty with your master?" he asked Alice.

"Never, sir, by any chance," said Alice with emphasis. "Dr. Burdell was a respectable gentleman, one of the finest."

"Did you have difficulties with the housemistress?"

"With Mrs. Cunningham! There wasn't n.o.body in the house that didn't have trouble with her."

"Objection," said Clinton from his chair.

"I will ask the witness to refrain from speaking for others," said the Judge.

Hall continued. "Madame, to your knowledge, was Mrs. Cunningham married to Dr. Burdell?"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Clinton called out loudly, now raising himself from his seat. "Questions about the marriage are prohibited from this proceeding by prior order and such inquiries are barred from testimony."

The Judge looked squarely at Oakey Hall and stated: "Mr. Hall, I will remind you, the matter about which you speak is being litigated in another courtroom. There will be no questioning on the subject."

"Excuse me, I withdraw," said Hall, fiddling with the architecture of his large cravat.

The Judge spoke to the jury and said, "The jury shall disregard this question, and make no inference from it."

"Let me ask the witness, then," Hall continued, "since you attended to Dr. Burdell's bedroom, did you observe from the bedding, that two persons slept in his bed?"

"Objection!" said Clinton.

"Overruled, the witness may answer that," said Judge Davies.

"Well," hinted Alice coyly, "on certain mornings, I saw that the covers was mussed and the pillows looked used, like two was sleeping there instead of one. I found hairpins on the mattress." Her eyes darted about, and she leaned forward. "What went on in the room, I can only guess," she said.

"Was it a regular occurrence that you found the bedding disheveled?"

"Regular enough," she said. "Up until the month of January. On some nights, the bed wasn't used at all. Dr. Burdell was spending his nights out. He'd come back in the early morning, wearing the same clothes he had on the day before." At this mention, there was a stirring throughout the courtroom, at the implication that Dr. Burdell had a mistress, planting the idea of jealousy as a motive.

"Were others in the house aware of his habits of sleeping away from home?"

"I kept quiet and didn't talk about it because I was worried that I might be compromised if I told tales. I have been a chambermaid in New York for seven years. It was the depth of winter, and I feared to lose my job."

Clinton listened, subdued. He had to be careful. Too many objections might elicit sympathy for the working girl. He hoped that if she spoke long enough, she would hang herself.

Alice gave off a rattling cough and Hall was quick to offer her a gla.s.s of water from a tumbler. "Thank you, sir; I'll thank you for it." She drank from the gla.s.s.

"Did you ever observe the defendant, Mrs. Cunningham, entering Dr. Burdell's room when he was not at home?"

"Oh, my, she went in there many times. The Doctor always kept his rooms locked. I saw her entering that room when he was away, I cannot tell a lie about it."

"Miss Donahoe, I trust you are telling us the truth, and honoring your oath and your duty."