Writer's note: For two such intense characters as Susan and Homer, "the heights" must have been pretty spectacular indeed. This is one way the story might have played out. For Susan especially, (who alas, got too little screen time) she is so strong, defiant, fearless, but are there cracks in her armor?
They start out as Caitlin and Matthew, and since they take on a few aliases, to avoid confusion, I refer to them as Caitlin and Matthew throughout.
This is my first attempt at writing prose, and of course, my first crack at fan fiction. You can thank (or blame!) Richard Warlow for writing such interesting characters, that I couldn't get them out of my head even after the series ended. Please let me know how you like it, and how the story could be improved. Thank you for reading!
There was a terrible crash in the room where Theodore and his daughter, Caitlin Swift, were having dinner. In an adjoining room, Matthew Judge, a Pinkerton detective assigned to protect the girl, was as usual, losing badly at poker with the boys. He jumped up in time to see Caitlin running up the stairs in tears. Swift bellowed, "Frank, get somebody in here to clean up this mess!"
There was a great commotion, with nervous servants running back and forth. In the chaos Matthew slipped up the stairs after Caitlin, though he was unsure of what he could possibly do. He heard her scream at her maid to leave the room and slammed the door. The house got very quiet. Matthew nodded to the maid to reassure her that it was all right to go.
Up to this point, every encounter he'd had with her was less like a genteel conversation, more like a verbal prizefight. She was a pain in the ass, hardly worth the trouble, but he had to admit, she was interesting. Not a woman given to tears though. He'd best tread carefully.
He knocked on the door. "It's Matthew." He waited a long time, but at last the knob turned and the door opened. Caitlin wasn't crying anymore, but her face was still red with anger. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him.
"You shouldn't be in here." She paced restlessly, tearing away at the lace on the cuff of her gown. He noticed she'd flung the bedding and pillows off the bed and that she had cleared off the vanity with some violence. There were powders and broken glass perfume bottles strewn with lace and pearls across the floor. "What do you want?"
"Was there something wrong with the family china?"
She glared at him, then seemed to lose the strength that anger gave her, and she sat down on the unmade bed. "He is forcing me to marry Henry Whitworth-Sudbury."
"The import-export guy?" Henry Whitworth-Sudbury was a wealthy man in his middle sixties, tall and taciturn, with a reputation for cut-throat negotiation where business was concerned. He had buried two wives already, and was in the market for a third. "I don't get it. You're of age, right? He can't very well force you to marry anyone."
"Nevertheless, he is determined. I'm a thorn in his side. I've developed quite a reputation in society." They shared a smile, which broke some of the tension. "I've offended a few too many of his business associates who made the foolish mistake of flattery and fawning to impress me. It has become a joke, people laugh at him behind his back. Who wants to do business with a man who can't control his own daughter? A year ago he gave me an ultimatum. If I refused to entertain any of his suitors and sycophants by my twenty-seventh birthday, then he would choose a husband for me."
"And I guess that day has passed?"
She went out onto the veranda. "He means to announce our engagement on Saturday at his big party."
"So? Refuse. What can he do to you?"
She looked him in the eye. "He has threatened to have me committed."
"What? He can't do that!"
"It's how he got rid of my mother."
She sat on a bench under an umbrella, and indicated for Matthew to sit. "When I was eleven years old, my mother had an affair. My father traveled a lot, he was often gone for months at a time. She was lonely. She took up with this man. I remember he was handsome. To me he seemed kind and gentle, nothing like my father. He made her laugh. Anyway, he was killed. Trampled by a horse. Apparently he was a gambler, spent a lot of time at the racetrack.
"After that, my mother changed. She started getting headaches. She slept a lot, would hardly ever leave her room. She started acting strangely, one time she was convinced that her skin was crawling with insects. Once she thought her hands were in flames. She saw other things. She told me to be sure to take care of my little brother, 'Don't let him play so close to the window.' I never had a brother, I am an only child.
"Then one day she was gone. They took her away, they told me she was going to a hospital and was going to receive the very best of care. I found out years later that she was sent to an asylum for the criminally insane. No hospital, this was a prison. I was never allowed to visit her, and a year later she died. Heart attack they said. She was thirty two years old.
"I think they did something to her. They must have drugged her or something, what else could make her change like that? I even toyed with the idea that my father had something to do with her lover's death."
They sat silent for a while. "I suppose now you think I'm insane."
Matthew shook his head. "I have no reason to think that. Look, it's not so easy to commit someone. You have to have a medical diagnosis of insanity, and a judge has to approve it."
Caitlin laughed. "You think he doesn't own judges? Doctors? He hired you."
He struggled for something to say. "Well, don't worry. We'll think of something."
"We?"
The next morning Matthew awoke to a pounding on the door. He hated to be woken up. He much preferred to let a searing headache and a wave of nausea wake him up naturally. "Swift wants us downstairs for a meeting. Now."
When he joined the meeting, Mr. Swift took a seat at the head of the table and addressed his men. "It seems there's been some vandalism down at the factory. Some unpleasant messages were painted on the door, pertaining to my imminent demise. That problem has since been… neutralized," Swift puffed his cigar and glanced at Frank Goodnight, "but we still need to be on our guard. I'm bringing in a few extra men for security until the party. On a happier note, my daughter has accepted a proposal of marriage to my friend, Henry Whitworth-Sudbury. We will be making it official on Saturday, so no one else should know beforehand. I would so hate to ruin the surprise for her. In the meantime, she will be shopping for her trousseau. I want someone with her at all times."
Matthew snorted. "What's a trousseau? Whatever it is, I'm pretty sure she's already got one."
Theodore Swift had little patience for Matthew's attitude. "A trousseau is a wardrobe, young man. That's everything-dresses, hats, gloves, shoes-the works. She can have anything her heart desires, money is no object. But it has to be soon, that was her condition for accepting the engagement. You need to make sure she gets everything she wants, Judge. I want her to look perfect for the announcement. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have real work to attend to."
When Swift was well out of earshot, Matthew turned to Frank. "Is he serious? What in the hell could she possibly buy that she doesn't already have? If she likes one thing, she's got to have ten of them. 'This one has a bow. This one sparkles. This one matches my pretty petticoats, or some damn thing.' That girl could wear a different get-up every day for a year with no repeat."
"But I'm a slave to the latest fashion. I'd rather be dead than stand up in front of all those people in last year's dress."
Matthew swung around, to find Caitlin close behind him, smiling sweetly. Frank's younger brother William stifled a laugh.
"Shouldn't you be calling for my carriage, Mr. Judge?"
Matthew bit back the words that came to mind, doing his best to return her gaze.
Caitlin addressed William, but held Matthew's eyes. "William, I'd like you to come too. I would so appreciate a young man's opinion on the prettiest gowns." Caitlin took William's arm and the two left the room together.
Frank stopped Matthew at the door. "Someone with her at all times. No loitering by the carriage, no smoking breaks. Understand?"
"Frank, what about these threats? Is this really a good time for her to be traipsing around from shop to shop?"
"We won't need to worry about that malcontent who painted the message. It seems he was wanted by the police for some other mischief. Unfortunately, he resisted arrest, and was shot trying to make his escape. It's a real shame, but what can you do?"
Matthew drew in a breath when Caitlin emerged from her dressing room in a stunning red satin dress, with a black lace and beaded pearl underskirt. The color set off her pale skin and blonde hair perfectly. He couldn't imagine a more beautiful combination. He wondered if Whitworth-Sudbury knew just what he was getting himself into.
She held out her arms to William. "What do you think sir? May I have this dance?" William blushed from the top of his forehead to his too-tight collar. They took a turn waltzing around the room. She laughed at his shyness, "Well, William, should I take it or not?"
He cast down his eyes and murmured, "I sure wish you would ma'am." And with a pirouette she disappeared into her dressing room.
William sunk into a little velvet upholstered chair and poured himself a large glass of water. Matthew sighed and rolled his eyes. "I need some air. Keep an eye on her, will you?" William dabbed his face with a handkerchief and poured himself another glass. It fell to the lush Persian carpet when the blow to his head knocked him out. Matthew ran back in the room when he heard a moan, but that was as far as he got before the lights went out.
He came to in a pool of blood. He was gagged, and his arms and legs were bound together behind his back. William, still unconscious, was similarly bound. With effort, Matthew rolled up onto his knees, shuffled over to the tea table, and with a swing of his head, sent the delicate china flying, which summoned a very shocked tailor.
"Where is Miss Swift!" he roared when the gag was removed. The nervous man had just untied his hands. "Go find her. Now!" By the time Matthew freed his legs, the tailor returned from the dressing room, ashen and drained.
"Is there another way out of here?" Matthew demanded. A shaky hand pointed toward a servant's entrance. "Help this man!"
At the bottom of a narrow staircase, was an open door, leading out to a very empty alley.
