Indigo Christmas (16 page)

There had been some discussion about exactly who should be invited, but Aunt Molly, wise as always, had come up with the best solution. “Invite
every
boy of that age in the city, and make it clear that the poor are especially welcome. There will be well-to-do parents who don't wish their children hobnobbing with poor children. very well, those privileged boys will not come. The wealthy parents who do allow their boys to attend will be asked to help, and to contribute money. It will be very good for rich boys, at least those with enlightened parents, to mingle with those who have less. It will teach them compassion. And the two groups can teach each other a great deal in the way of new games, new ways to live.”

“Glad I don't have children,” muttered Mrs. Townsend, but the others ignored her and concentrated on the excellent tea served by Elsa and the new waitress.

Hilda was exhausted by the time the meeting was over, but she stayed on after all the others had left. Mrs. Clem had given her a discreet signal, so she pretended she had lost a handkerchief.

When the last guest had been seen out the door, the last hat vanished into a carriage, the last high-pitched voice died out, Mrs. Clem returned to the library. Hilda, who had been drooping in a chair, sprang to her feet. The older woman smiled.

“Sit down, my dear. You must be worn out. I thought you carried out your role splendidly.” She sat down herself, and propped her tiny feet up on a footstool.

Hilda stared. She had not expected the wealthiest woman in South Bend to see what her own sisters could not. “It was not easy, madam—Mrs.—Mrs. Studebaker,” she said, stumbling over the words.

“Old habits die hard, don't they? Just call me Mrs. Clem. Everyone does. And don't think I don't know the courage it took for you to come here this afternoon. Your new life is a bit hard to get used to, isn't it?”

“Oh, madam—Mrs. Clem—you do understand! It is very hard. I do not even know how to talk to people, my own kind of people or your kind, either one. Always I must watch my words, my manner, even my gestures. You know I nearly curtseyed to you.”

“Yes, but I don't think anyone else noticed. You recovered very well. You must care a great deal about boys to involve yourself in this cause.”

“I do. There is my youngest brother, Erik. He has friends among these boys, and he could so easily get into trouble. He is like me, you see,” said Hilda confidingly, and wondered why her hostess burst into laughter.

“Oh, Hilda—do you mind if I call you Hilda? That's an old habit of
mine
, and not at all proper in your new position.”

“I would like you to call me Hilda. You are my friend, I think. But why did you laugh?”

“My dear child, do you think I was unaware of all the trouble you got yourself into when you worked here? I was very careful not to notice unless I absolutely had to, but your—er—extracurricular activities did not escape me. And if your brother is like you, then indeed he needs some restraining influence.”

She smoothed her skirts and then looked seriously at Hilda. “My dear, I'm sure you noticed that one of the ladies in the group seemed not to be of quite the same mind as most of us.”

“Mrs. Townsend.” Hilda said the name as if it tasted bad in her mouth, and her cheeks flamed. “Aunt Molly would not let me say what I thought, and it is good that I did not, but oh, I wanted to tell her many things!”

“I can just imagine, but I'm very glad you didn't. Mrs. Townsend is—she can be a bitter woman, and she is, I'm afraid, not well liked in South Bend society. That's one reason I urged Mrs. Elbel to invite her to join in this effort, but it was a mistake, I fear. I don't quite understand why she can't fit in, for she entertains a great deal, and very lavishly at that. I do have the feeling she is worried about something, but she never hints at what it might be. However—I thought I should warn you to watch your step with her if she continues with the Boys' Club.”

“What do you mean? What could she do?”

“I don't know that I mean anything very particular, and I can't predict what she might do. That's just the point. She's unpredictable, sweet as pie one minute and sour as vinegar the next. As I say, perhaps a worry that nags at her from time to time. You'd do well to walk on eggs with her.”

Hilda sighed. She knew all about egg-walking.

Mrs. Clem stood. “You look tired, Hilda. I had hoped your marriage would ease some of your burdens.”

“Oh, it has, but now there are others. It is not only finding the place where I belong now. There are other things, serious things. Norah—you remember Norah Murphy?”

“Of course. Norah O'Neill now, isn't it?”

Hilda marveled again. She had underestimated her employer, all those years. “Well, Norah has had a baby. In my house, on Friday. She came there to tell me Sean—that is her husband— that Sean was in trouble, arrested. There has been a murder, and Sean is suspected. And now Norah is very ill with something called a-neem—something, and her worry is making it worse. And so…”

“And so Hilda is going to the rescue. Again. Well, see you take care of yourself while you're taking care of everyone else. Don't work too hard on the party arrangements, dear. You have enough to do.”

“Yes, but the party is part of what I have to do for Norah. The boys, you see, they know things others do not. I hope to learn many things from them at the party.”

“And I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you do. Take care, child. Please tell Norah I'm terribly sorry to hear she's ill. I'll send over a little gift for her and the baby. And be sure to let me know if you need anything from me.”

Hilda thanked her profusely, collected her cloak from a bemused butler, and swept out the door to the porte-cochère and into her carriage.

DECEMBER MEETING OF
THE ORPHANS' HOME BOARD
Many Donations Reported—
Need of a New Home is Greatly Felt

—South Bend
Tribune
   
December 1904

 

 

16

N
O SOONER HAD Hilda
driven away than she regretted her grand exit. She should have stayed to consult with the butler. She was, now, charged with several duties for the boys' Christmas party, and she had no idea how to go about some of them. How did one procure a hall? How large did it need to be? Where was one to
find tables and chairs? She was sure Mr. Williams—no, Williams, she must remember—would know about tables and chairs, anyway. The Studebakers often hosted dinners on a scale large enough to require that furniture be brought in.

Having acted the grand lady in front of her old boss, however, Hilda was reluctant to go back to him with hat
figuratively in hand. Why, she berated herself, had she volunteered to do so much work, when she already had more than enough to do? She needed desperately to free Sean
O'neill from suspicion, and at the moment she had only the vaguest idea how she was to go about that task. She hoped Patrick would have had time today to talk to Sergeant Lefkowicz. Perhaps a report from the police would give her a path to follow.

Meanwhile there were the party problems to solve. Hilda called to her driver. “Mr.
O'Rourke, I have changed my mind. Please take me to Mrs. Malloy's house.”

Aunt Molly was a very present help in time of trouble—any kind of trouble. She had become Hilda's counselor in almost every situation.

Aunt Molly, however, was not at home. Hilda was met at the door by the frozen-faced butler who had so intimidated her when she had
first become acquainted with the Malloys some years ago. His manner today was quite different. Plainly he didn't recognize Hilda in her
finery.

“I am sorry, madam. If you would care to wait, I expect Mrs. Malloy soon. She attended a meeting this afternoon and was to be home before
five o'clock.”

?I attended the same meeting. It ended some time ago. She must
have made another stop.? Hilda consulted the lovely little watch pinned to her
gown. Patrick would be home very soon, and she was pining to talk to him. ?Oh, dear,” she said, unsure of what to do. “I cannot wait. Perhaps I can return later.”

“May I give her a message, madam?”

She made up her mind. “Yes, please tell her Mrs. Cavanaugh called.”

The butler's mouth dropped open, but his training held. He shut it again and resumed his deferential look.

“Tell Mrs. Malloy that I need some advice about planning the Christmas party, and I would like to speak with her very soon about a hall and other matters. It is urgent.”

“Madam, if I may make a suggestion: since the matter is urgent, I might be of some assistance. I have some experience in arranging large parties. I take it this is to be a large party, if you need a hall?”

“Yes, I think so. It is all to be done in a great hurry. The party is planned for Saturday, the seventeenth, at two o'clock, and we do not know yet how many are to come. It is for boys, you see— poor boys, and others, if they wish to come. We will not know for certain until they arrive. It is difficult!” She was beginning to see just how difficult it was.

“I see,” said the butler thoughtfully. “This would have to do with the Boys' Club that is being planned?”

Hilda nodded, not questioning how he knew. No one was more aware than she that servants always knew everything that was going on.

?Madam, if you will allow me to make some inquiries, I believe I might be able to solve your problem. There are several halls that are often available for charitable events without charge. Some of them are able to accommodate large crowds and have sufficient tables and so on. Is there to be food?” He checked himself. “Of course. The party is for boys.”

Hilda gave a great sigh of relief. “Oh, if you could help! It cannot be a church, you know. Some of the boys will be Catholic and some Protestant, so they could not all go to the same church.”

“Yes, I see.” The butler nodded. “I'm sure it can be arranged without too much difficulty, madam. The
Odd Fellows Hall will be best, I think. They have a large meeting-place.”

“Thank you—I am sorry, I do not remember your name.”

“Riggs, madam.”

“I am very grateful—er—Riggs—very grateful for your help.”

“Thank you, madam. I am happy to be of assistance.” A strange expression crossed his face. “I am fond of boys, madam.”

That was unexpected. “You have a son, maybe?”

“I had a son, madam.” The mask was back on his face. He bowed. “Was there anything else, madam?”

“No, thank you, Riggs, but tell Aunt Molly I called.” Thoughtfully she went down the steps and back to her carriage. How odd that she had never really thought of a butler as a human being with troubles of his own.
“I had a son.”
Was the boy dead, then? Did Riggs have a wife living? If so, where? She certainly didn't live at the Malloys'.

It was a mystery, but a minor one compared to the huge question of who killed Mr. Jenkins.

The Cavanaugh home was only a block from the Malloys'. Hilda rushed inside, hoping Patrick would be home, but he was not. Hilda was greeted by
Eileen, who took her cloak and whispered, “The doctor's come, ma'am. He's upstairs.”

“Norah isn't worse?” Hilda whispered in return. There was no real need for quiet, but whispers are contagious.

“I don't think so, ma'am. The nurse seems well enough pleased. Doctor's just checking her.”

“I'll go up.”

Norah?s bedroom door was still shut, so Hilda took a moment to step into her bedroom and remove her hat. She wished fervently that she could also remove her stays, but that meant a complete change of clothes and
Eileen's help. Hilda couldn't imagine why they couldn't make sensible clothing that was also pretty, clothing a woman could get into and out of by herself. When she had been a maid—but the sound of a door opening put an end to her musings. She rushed into the hall.

“How is she, Doctor?”

The doctor blinked. “Er—Mrs. Cavanaugh?”

“Yes, yes!” She was getting a little impatient with the reaction to her new appearance. “How is
Norah?”

“Feeling somewhat better. Good food and rest are doing her some good, and the tonic's put some roses in her cheeks. It may be months, mind, before she's back to normal. She's been run down for a long time. And you, young woman. What have you been doing on her behalf? Found out anything yet?”

“No. This morning I could not go out, and this afternoon I was busy about the Boys' Club. But tomorrow I will go and talk to many boys, and see what I can learn.”

“Mind you do. What your friend needs more than anything I can give her is a quiet mind. If you think you can give her that, you'd best be about it.” He glared at her over the top of his glasses and stumped off down the stairs.

Hilda knocked on Norah's door. The nurse opened it, looked Hilda up and down, and smiled. “Come in. The sight of you would do anyone good. Mrs.
O'neill, here's a visitor for you.”

“I don't want—who—Hilda?” The last was said on a rising note of astonishment.

“It is me,” said Hilda, twirling to give Norah the full effect. “I should have left my hat on, but it is heavy and uncomfortable.”

“Go and get it!” commanded Norah.

When Hilda returned, hat in place, Norah shook her head. “It's that grand you look, I'd scarce have believed me eyes. You're as pretty as the roses. Prettier—they're fadin' a bit. And your hair!”

“Eileen wanted me to wear it like this. I do not think it looks like me, and nobody recognized me. except Mrs. Clem.
Norah, she has a sharper eye than we ever knew.”

And Hilda took her hat off again and sat down to tell Norah all about the afternoon. “And she said she will send something for you and the baby. She is a good woman,
Norah.”

“We always knew that. Many's the time I wish I was still working there. Though Mrs. George…” She left the sentence unfinished.