SCENE THIRTY FIVE Singer's Mirandahl outside Raleigh, NC

"Well, I like admitting this about as much as I like having a tooth pulled. But it turns out I was wrong." Artemus Gordon frowned as he told his partners, old and new. "This cockeyed scheme of mine is just that, completely cockeyed. It's not going to work, not even a little bit."

"Artie are you … no, you've got to be kidding!" 'Jim West' exclaimed, walking over to the older agent. "Or else you're just as damn all tired as the rest of us and you want to call it a night. So, which is it, Pal?"

"Partly the latter and not at all the former, James m'boy." Artie insisted, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. "This plan of mine was so simple to begin with, elegantly simple and thoroughly workable. But at this point it's become almost Byzantine in it's complications. And that's a death sentence for this kind of one shot, essentially one-man play. And I'm willing to bet you cold hard cash, if I had any that is, that your cousin Jemmy would get a good laugh out my admitting this, if he were here."

" Figure Jemmy would laugh at that, Partner. But he's a tad bit busy these days, helping out over in N'folk. So we've already got this play onstage, to that extent. How can we back out now?" the younger man demanded.

"Very quickly and very quietly, that's how." Artie answered. "Well, that is, we have to back out of the Washington elements of the plan."

"Artemus, the Washington elements?" 'Jim' echoed. "I thought those elements were the whole, entire plan. Exactly what have I been missing all these weeks?"

"The same thing I was missing, Jim, the same thing all of us were missing, a completely viable, highly creative and exquisitely simple alternative scheme. And luckily, one of those just occurred to me. In short, partner, you're not going to Washington, you don't have to." Artemus smiled.

"He doesn't?" Jeremy Pike asked, leaning back in one of the Windsor chairs. "Where does Jim have to go, then, Artie?"

"Nowhere, Jim stays right here at Mirandahl. In fact, we all do, and we bring all the rest of the team, including Ani and Miguel this time, right back here. And then, we send out the invitations."

"Well, now you've lost me good and proper, Artemus." Frank Harper complained, squinting at his long time friend. " Just who are we inviting and to what?"

"Well, I'd imagine with Mirandahl being in the middle of the Old North State, very nearly, we'll end up inviting most of the Singers, Ashfords, Ashtons, Randolphs, Munroes, Spencers, Morrisons, Torrances and Morrisseys for four counties around here, and their friends, of course. Then we'll add some dignitaries to the list. But nothing like the sheer mass of them who'll be in Washington in April. And even if we don't invite all those fine people, we need to make sure that as many of our current non-friends as possible come to Mirandahl in …oh, I'd say about two weeks time. In fact they have to be here before the first of March."

"The first of March? The first…" 'Jim' repeated. "Artie, I'm sure Jem would appreciate you wanting to make a big fuss for his birthday. But then, again he may not feel like throwing a party this year. So, I'm still not sure what makes you think moving the whole scheme down here to Mirandahl is such an extraordinary alternative to your original scheme."

"Oh, just one reason that someone mentioned had been mentioned to them by …Who was that now?… some odd young fellow with a freckled face and an incorrigible head of chestnut hair and a lot of … what my Aunt Miri always called chutzpah… pretty much that translates …"

"…as hubris, yes so I've heard, and that young fellow's name is Westley?" 'Jim' chuckled. "And what did young Westley come up with, exactly?"

"Well, his name is Wesley, to be precise, James. And he came up with the gloriously undeniable fact that Boudin has never been on these premises in all the time he's known you, Partner. That being the case we have a definite home-field advantage going for us right here at Singer's Mirandahl. He'll come and he'll be on 'foreign territory'. We'll already be here, waiting and watching for him. As if we were the spider, this time and he was the fly, having already second and even third-guessed that King Spider's every move." Artie grinned.

"Artemus, from what I've gathered so far about Boudin and his associates, a mortal lot of people have believed they could guess his every move, from time to time. And I don't know of any of them who were ever right about that." 'Jim' offered.

"There's a first time for everything, James m'boy." Artie noted. "A first time for everything, including our luck turning from horrible to terrific, this time."

"Yes, well, that's fine, Partner, just as long as Boudin's luck changes from terrific to horrendous at one and the same time." 'Jim West' replied. "That would make a lot of people very happy. Yes, yes, Tobias, who's at the door this time?" The younger man asked Mirandahl's long time steward, as that old gentleman came to the study doorway.

"A gentleman I'm not acquainted with Mr… West. But he insists he's well acquainted with Mr. Gordon as they have family and friends in common in San Francisco's best social circles. He gave me this card to show you, Mr. Gordon." Tobias answered holding out a small, cream colored carte d' visite.

Artie took the item and at one glance began to guffaw and finally to roar with laughter.

"What's so funny, Partner?" 'West' demanded to know, wondering if he should pound Artemus on the back if he didn't' stop laughing. "Who in the devil is it?"

"Shall I admit the gentlemen, Mr. Gordon?" Tobias asked, looking just as concerned.

"Please… please do, Tobias." Artie said, wiping at one eye. "Sorry, Jim, you're going to miss what would have been a nice little shock to the system. The 'gentleman' is actually one of my cousins from out in the City, a fine old fellow who goes by the stage name Elias Ariel Benjamin Morgan."

"Wait, Tobias, wait a moment, please before you admit this Mr. Morgan." 'West' asked. "Artemus, what do you mean, I'm gonna miss a shock to my system? What are you up to, this time?"

"Oh, no more than about 5'11" these days, James." Artie chuckled. "And it's easy to explain this, really. It's just like what sometimes happens with you and Jemmy, and those two east Texas cousins of yours that you were telling me about. Some people are convinced that Eli and I bear a strong family resemblance to one another. But that's the purest sort of nonsense."

"Oh, alright. Now I'm beginning to understand this, anyway. Well, let's have Mr. Morgan come in to the study, Tobias and have someone bring us some tea. I've been so interested in Artemus' plan I completely forgot about dinner." 'West' shrugged as his steward left the room again. "Oh and by the way, Partner, about those cousins of Jemmy's from east Texas, they could be twins. They're that much alike. The only substantial difference between Cooper and Jess is that Coop's two years older to the day."

"Mr. Elias Ariel Benjamin Morgan, gentlemen." Tobias announced a moment later and 'Jim' was glad he was wearing his green visor because otherwise he would have been staring with his jaw dropping at the newcomer. The man standing in the doorway was exactly the same height as Artie, with the same broad shoulders and strong frame, strikingly handsome, molded features, wide, dark eyes, and a similarly Levantine complexion. But where Artemus' 'mane' was as thick and black as pitch, Morgan's was an equally handsome salt and pepper combination, falling to his collar, with the addition of a flowing moustache. And where Artie dressed very well and sometimes more modishly than Jim did, Morgan's outfit might be better described as a costume, with a sweeping midnight blue opera cape thrown over a lavish suit straight out of Madame Bovary or War and Peace.

"Tzuri!" This newcomer called out and rushed to embrace Artemus like a long lost brother.

" Ari!" The former actor replied with equal enthusiasm.

"Tzuri?" 'Jim' echoed, cocking his head one way and then the other. "Tzuri? Artie, your name is actually Tzuri?"

Artie turned towards the younger man and rolled his eyes. "I thought I'd explained that to you about a thousand times by now, 'Torry'. When I was born, I was named Adamech Avishai Tzuriel Gorniak. Well, that won't fit, and it won't work too well on a theatre's placards or playbills, unless you're only working in the Yiddish Theatre. And similarly, my older cousin here was named Elisha Ariel Binyamin Morjanelski… So he only needed to change half his name for the stage."

"A variance for which Tzuri, or that is Artemus, has chided me on a regular basis for decades." Morgan added. "I'm very glad to meet you finally, Mr. West. I hope I haven't arrived too late to help plan your cousin's birthday celebration."

"No, no. I'm… We've got nearly two weeks to go yet." 'Mr. West' answered. "And I'm always glad to meet someone from the family my partner here … doesn't really talk about that much. Would you just call me James, though?"

"He's a modest fellow, our Tzuri, James, old man. Please, do call me Ari" Morgan agreed, sounding and grinning exactly like Artie was right now, to the point that it was giving 'James' the shivers. "He always has been. He doesn't like to boast about himself at all, which I suppose he extends to boasting about our mutual relatives. Now, what has Tzuri told you about what he's suggested I can do to help you put a stop to this monstrous Boudin person?"

"Nothing as yet, Ari." 'West' admitted, shaking his head. "I think he was just getting to that, though. What about that, Partner?"

"Well, I thought it would be easier to explain to you and the rest of the team, Jim, when Ari was actually here. And I wasn't expecting my cousin for another day or so, honestly." Artemus shrugged. "So, even though you can't literally see what I'm talking about, Partner, my idea is for Ari and myself to cause the same kind of confusion that we hope for from you and Jem. So, it would actually turn out to be a Tale of Four Cousins, instead of Two. The more the merrier, you see, as far as confusion for the bad guys. And of course we'll be giving out the word that you'll be headed to N'folk any day now…"

"… to be with my uncle Jimmy… b'fore…" 'West' nodded glumly. "before he passes. Right. Y'know I still hate the idea … of what … what my uncle's doing for me. But I've given him my word, now. And all the doctors are getting ready. In fact, Jemmy and Jacques sent word this morning, saying they may have found a way to speed that whole process. And I say the sooner it's all over, the damn all better! Sorry, Mr. Morgan, that is, Ari. I'm just not one for waiting around for .. just about anything. I never have been, including waiting for something to eat. Tobias!" 'Jim' called out "Tobias, where's our…"

"Tea is being served in the library, to accommodate Mrs. Singer and her visitors this afternoon, sir." The butler responded from the doorway, as if summoned by Jim's shouting. "She asked me to say you gentlemen are more than welcome to join her and the ladies's auxilliary as she put it, Mr. West, sir."

"The ladies auxilliary?" 'Jim' grinned tautly. "Well, that's one invitation we can't possibly pass up, now can we, gentlemen?"

"Certainly not!" Both San Franciscan cousins agreed, and with West between them, they descended on the lift in the main hall way and then on the downstairs library.

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"Jimmy, Uncle, this trip, your traveling all the way from N'folk to Raleigh was not a good idea at all. I'm not a doctor, but you're…" Jemmy Singer, still holding to the role of his cousin James West protested.

"Well, I'm not a doctor, either, Torry." Jimmy Randolph laughed. "So why don't we leave that all that sort of second guessing to the fellows who do it for their living?"

"You were goin' to say the fools who do it for their living, weren't you, Jimmy?" The younger man asked, chuckling.

"Nonsense, nonsense, Torry!" Jimmy shook his head and winked. "It's only an attorney such as myself who's a fool when he handles his own defense. Everybody knows that. In any case, nephew, I'm here now, along with my dearest Jo, Bea, and Sarah Jean, Robby, Stephanie, and all their Littles. Pauly will be here in the next few days as well, along with his lovely Dani. And all because someone told us Mirandahl's soon to have one of her grand ol' parties. I couldn't possibly stay home when I heard of that, now could I?"

"He couldn't possibly!" April and Jeanny Stuart answered together, and rushed over to hug their cousin. "You're lookin' fine, if a tad little bit tired, Torry." Sarah Jean 'Jeanny' Randolph Stuart offered. "How are you, truly?"

"Busy as all get out, getting ready for this grand old party, Je." 'Jim' answered, using an old nickname for her. Then he bowed to Jeanny's ten year old daughter, April. "And I've been hoping for weeks that you'd bring, or you'd send this charming young lady on over to Mirandahl. I'm delighted you came for the party, Miss Stuart. How are you today? Was your trip here from N'folk a good one?"

"It was rainy and awfully dull, to be truthful, Cousin. We had to just sit on the train the whole time. And it wasn't anything like the really beauteous one you got from Mr. Grant!" April giggled and jumped, making her glossy black ringlets dance. "But momma says 'm not a young lady, not yet. Momma says I won't be one ever … not unless I stop climbin' trees, and trampin' the hills and digging for clams on the breakers, racing with the new ponies, and beating out the boys at foot races, momma says. But Miran… Mir… this place is sooo beauteous! I heard about it so many hundreds of times, when I was growing up! Just everybody talks about when they came here."

"I imagine they do, April Little." Jimmy Randolph said, chuckling at his eldest granddaughter.

"But why, Granddaddy? Why'd they do that?" the little girl demanded to know.

"Well, for two very good reasons, granddaughter. This beauteous old house is one of the oldest and finest of it's kind in the South, and just mebbee in the whole country, as well. And most folks agree it's as lovely as it is, after all this time, because it was built for, and built by nothin' but love." Jimmy told the girl.

"Oh, I know that story!" April squealed, clearly very pleased with her acumen. "Do you know it, Cousin …Torry?"

"No, Miss April, I'm not sure I do." 'Jim' answered, grinning, then he crooked his elbow politely and held it out to Jeanny's only child. "Why don't we go into the library, have some tea, maybe some sandwiches or cakes, and you can tell it to me."

"Oh, surely, surely we will!" April giggled again, then she studiously put one hand on his arm and looked over her shoulder at Jeanny. "Momma, I may walk in with Cousin Torry, mayn't I, now?"

"Oh surely, surely." Jeanny Stuart laughed, shaking her head. "We'll be in directly I get out of this damp old coat. I think I know that old story. But I'd love to hear it again. Will you be kind enough to wait for me to begin it, Miss April, please?"

"Yes, momma." April agreed, and walked 'Torry' out of the large, echoing foyer of Singer's Mirandahl.

Ten minutes later 'Torry' and the newcomers, along with Eli Morgan and most of Mac's team were settled in the library some barely listening and others avidly paying attention to the young raconteur.

"When we stayed in France for a little while, mostly nobody there even knew about this old house and this story." April told them, as if it was the most shocking thing she knew. "And they truly should've, seems to me. Cause that all started in that old Paris and that old Lyons. Well, there was this fellow, his name was Morgan Michael Singer, and he went from County Wicklow in Ireland over to Paris in France. And he went there, seems to me cause he just wanted to go ahead and fall in love. So he did.

He fell in love with the most beautous lady they had, over there. Her name was Mirandah Eugenie Robineau. And the story says her momma or her grandmomma named Madeline, maybe was famous, and was in some stories, herself. And this most beautiful lady, she fell in love with Morgan Michael, too. And they wanted to come here to Raleigh. Well, mebbee there wasn't a Raleigh here way back then.

And that's where they got in some trouble. See, there was this Queen Lady. But she wasn't sweet and sad like Queen Victoria is now. She was … well, the story says she was horrid. She was angry all the time and didn't act like a lady should. She wasn't from France. She came from some other place, so maybe she didn't want to stay there. But she was the Queen Lady and she made a mortal lot of rules. She said ladies that were from France, that were famous and pretty and rich couldn't go someplace else unless the Queen Lady said yes they could." April said and took another sip of the 'sweet, milky tea' she preferred.

"Miss April, this story happened quite a long time ago I believe." Artemus asked, to give the little girl time for another bite of cake, too. "I think I have heard some of the story. Maybe I can help you tell it. That way, you can finish your cake."

"Oh, thanks a whole, whole… mean t' say, thanks very much, Mister Ar… scuze me, mean t' say, Mister Gordon." The girl smiled.

"Oh, that's okay, April. Artemus loves to tell stories." 'Jim' laughed. " So go on now, Partner. Go right ahead."

"I will, James, I will." Artie said, rolling his eyes. "The Queen in this story was Catherine d' Medici, and April's right of course, she came to France from Florence, Italy, where her family was immensely powerful and rich. And they were Roman Catholics, which at that time meant they were almost always fighting with people who were not. Well, in France one group of those others, those non-Catholics were called Hugenots, and some of them had already sailed for the New World. But Queen Catherine wasn't happy with that one bit. And she called for a great many Hugenot, who were getting ready to sail to be killed, to be murdered, in fact. And that was done, because she was the Queen, even though it was a terrible thing, and a horrid disgrace. It happened on a feast day for St. Bartholemew, so after that day, what happened was called the St. Bartholemew's Day massacre."

"Artemus, old friend, mebbee you could have left that part out." Jeanny Stuart protested, looking from Artie to April and back.

"But he couldn't, momma. No, ma'am, he couldn't do that. It's the nearly th' ending part of the story!" April insisted, her clear hazel eyes lit by her determined spirit.

"Well she's right about that, Jeanny, old friend. Still, I apologize for leaving that in. Well, I guess we wouldn't have the rest of this story or this wonderful old house, now, much less our temporarily absent friends Jemmy and Ben Singer if it weren't for Catherine de Medici's heartless orders." Artie continued. "Because that's when Morgan Singer made up his mind to take his lady love far away from La Belle France. So off they sailed, and they eventually came here. And here on this beautiful piece of land, Morgan Singer built Singer's Mirandahl for the woman he loved enough to cross the world for her sake.

And he vowed that only his love for his Mirandah, and her love for him made it possible. So he swore that this fine old house would always have at least one pair of lovers under it's roof. And if it didn't, his and Mirandah's revolted spirits would tear the place down around their unfeeling descendant's ears. Now I suppose my overly skeptical young partner over here, would say Morgan and Mirandah were only ensuring that there would be descendants to live here. But I say that I've already noted, in the few times I've stayed under this roof, that there is definitely a gentle, watchful sort of haunting going on here."

"And Artie's overly skeptical young partner over here would like to add this note to the story of Singer's Mirandahl, which says even more, I think about the hearts of the people who built it and those who keep it alive." 'Jim West' interjected. "In nearly two hundred and twenty three years, this home and the lands that are part of it, have NEVER ONCE held a single slave. That is, if any such person in bondage came here, Morgan, or Mirandah or their descendants would either help them run off, or they would arrange for them to work off their passage or their indebtedness or to work off whatever both parties deemed fair, so that they would end up freedmen and women.

Now, indenture isn't an easy way to live. It can be harsh as all get out and it can be corrupted so that there's no chance at freedom there, either. Nobody says that, including the share-croppers of our own time, today. But I believe there's a huge, huge difference between knowing there's a real time limit on your indenture that you agreed to, and knowng the only time limit on your servitude is being sold off or being dead."

"But you both forgot th' most important part of the story!" April Stuart objected, having duly finished her carrot cake, except for one smear of cream cheese frosting on her upper lip.

"Well, why don't you go on ahead and tell them that part, Cousin?" 'Jim' asked.

"Surely! The most important part is that they all lived happily ever after, all of their lives!" April announced with a fervent nod.

"She's right, fellows." Jimmy Randolph laughed. " My wise little granddaughter's right. That's surely what counts most at the end of any story we choose to tell."

Jeanny Randolph Stuart sighed and went over to hug her father. "You old darling, I don't know…" she whispered and couldn't go on.

"I'm just glad there's gonna be a fine ol' party down here, Sarah Jean." Randolph whispered back. "So that at least for a little while you and that bright little girl can stop wearing these dismal mournin' weeds!"

"Daddy, no, we can't. That would risk giving away the story we're trying to tell. If we're not wearing mourning, not only will it scandalize everyone at Jemmy's party. But also, surely the one we most wish to decieve will know something's up. And besides…" Jeanny shook her head.

"Daughter, obey me in this one small request, will you please?" Jimmy interrupted her, lifting her chin so that his bright green eyes met her violet grey eyes head on. "It's completely unfair of me to ask such a thing now, but I do. However, the person we most wish to decieve now suffers from his own idiosyncratic, iconoclastic loss of vision. He has done so now for more than fifty years. So I doubt he'll take note of your garb.

And besides, my dear heart, from the time I came out to Cyprus to help you and the child you've been head to toe in black. And frankly, I find it a vastly depressing, soul-diminishing, heart-constricting piece of the worst kind of Victorian living martyrdom and cultural folly! In short, Sarah Jean, I wish to see you two fair ladies in your brightest, loveliest satins and silks from now on. And that goes for your sisters in law, Dani and Stephanie, as well as my own Joanna and our dearest Queen Bea, too!

"Granddaddy, I'd be so glad to leave off these old 'weeds'." April told him. "But momma says it's not showing you good an' proper respect you should oughta have. What should I do?"

"You should do as your Grandfather asks, April." Jeanny answered, her wide violet grey eyes bright with tears. "And so… should I. That is showing him the respect he has surely earned. Come on along now, my dear heart and we'll freshen up, clean your face and put on something … to make your Granddaddy smile."

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