Secrets of Sloane House (14 page)

He realized she’d been holding the fine china teacup out for him for far too long. He took it and then took a sip of the strong East India tea. “Thank you.”

She sipped her own, which was liberally laced with cream and sugar. Then she looked at him directly. “Now that the niceties have been taken care of, perhaps you could talk to me about what is bothering you.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, son, do not play dumb. You’ve spent much of the last ten minutes gazing into nothing. Something has caught your interest, and just like when you were a lad, nothing is going to take it off your mind until you are good and ready.”

He was mildly embarrassed to be so transparent. “I had no idea I still harbored so many childish qualities.”

Her eyes lit up. “That, son, is the very reason you need to confide in me as soon as possible.” With a triumphant smile, she rested her teacup back in its saucer, set them both down on the table, then folded her hands on her lap. “Now, you may begin. I am listening.”

Reid was mildly taken aback. Though he and his mother had spoken about his schooling, his work, and his father’s health, they’d certainly never crossed the line into his personal problems.

“I’m not sure how to begin. Or what to share,” he said honestly. Did a gentleman dare burden his mother with a story like Rosalind’s? Or should he be more thoughtful of her delicate sensibilities?

“Reid, whatever it is, it can be dealt with. With God all things are possible, you know. Begin at the beginning, of course.”

“What I have learned is not fit for delicate company, Mother.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Since when have you decided that I am too delicate to face reality?”

He was discomfited. “Well, now—”

“And why, exactly, have you decided to start determining how much I need to know about things?”

“Mother—”

She cut him off yet again. “And, for that matter, whatever happened to you simply telling me your news?”

“Well, this story . . . it is rather disturbing, I fear.”

She leaned back and rearranged her skirts. “Ah, I see. So you fear I may be shocked? You’re concerned that I might faint? Be scandalized?”

As a matter of fact, he was becoming rather shocked by their present conversation. “I fear this might trouble you unnecessarily. I don’t wish to cause you any sleepless nights. Or undue stress. You have quite enough of that in your life at the moment.”

“Because of your father.”

“Yes. Of course I mean because of Dad.”

After once again picking up her teacup, she sipped slowly, her eyes closing in pleasure for a brief moment. Then they focused squarely on him. “I beg your pardon, Reid, but I’m afraid you have me confused with some other ladies of your acquaintance.”

“Pardon?”

“You must have forgotten that your father and I have not always lived here in the midst of all this glamour and superficiality. At one time, we had a perfectly normal existence in South Bend.” She raised a brow. “Do you remember our home? It was within walking distance of the train tracks.”

He felt himself color. “Point taken.”

“I hope so. Now, I spent my morning listening to a group of women wax poetically about flower arrangements. I spent two hours in the salon getting fitted for gowns. I also bought a new hat, one that has a profusion of fake gardenias on it. Please tell me something worthwhile.”

“Yes, ma’am.” After debating briefly about what would be the best way to begin, he decided to tell her all he knew. “This story begins, I suppose, with my meeting a maid at Sloane House. Her name is Rosalind.”

A flash of wariness—and, dare he think, disappointment?—appeared in her eyes. “Yes?”

“I met her a couple of weeks ago. Veronica and Douglass were talking to her. She’s new, you see.”

“And?” Reid could see she was both disappointed and a bit bored. It was obvious that she had no desire to hear some gossip about a maid.

“And I must admit that she is a beautiful young woman. I, um, haven’t been blind to that.”

Interest sparked in her eyes. “Oh?”

“Yes, she has brown curly hair and blue eyes. Trim. And the kind of complexion most young ladies of our acquaintance would be most envious of.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“Oh, she is.” He sighed. “But, Mother, that is not why she has been on my mind.”

“Reid, come to the point.”

“I will be happy to, but the story has happened to me in a roundabout fashion. And because of that, I feel forced to tell it to you in the same way.” He held up a hand to cut off any further protestation. “Suffice to say that I have discovered she is no ordinary maid. She is here under false pretenses.”

“Which are?”

“Her sister, who goes by the name of Miranda and worked at Sloane House as well, went missing. Rosalind is there to discover what happened to her.”

“I hate to disappoint her, but she might be on a fool’s errand. Many women have tales of heartbreak and woe. They are jilted by a lover or merely get homesick.” Looking a bit more optimistic, she added, “There’s also the chance the sister did what many women everywhere
do when they are off on their own. Sometimes, when a young lady is out of the watchful eye of her family, she does the unthinkable.”

“Which is?”

Her eyes sparkled. “She falls in love and gets married to a man of her choice.”

He chuckled. “Touché. But . . . don’t you think if something good had happened to Miranda she would have written to her family?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Sometimes the woman might not want to hear her family’s criticism. A woman’s heart is a fragile thing, you see.”

Reid blinked. Frankly, he was taken aback by his mother’s flowery words. He’d had no idea she was such a romantic! “But they are not of society, Mother. They are farmers in Wisconsin.”

She smiled slightly. “Just because the family isn’t society and doesn’t live in a large city, it doesn’t mean they don’t care about the choices she makes.”

“Sorry. Yes, of course you are right.”

She shrugged off his apology. “No, please forgive me. Here you are, telling me Rosalind’s story, and instead of listening I seem to be doing my best to give her story my own ending. What does she intend to do?”

“She’s determined to keep asking questions and sleuthing.” He couldn’t help it. He had to smile. “She’s determined to save the day, Mother. I find her goals both terribly laudable and extremely sad.”

“Is that what you told her?”

“Of course not. I told Rosalind I’d help as much as I could.”

“You were concerned about giving her false hope?”

“Mother, I know you think this is a fool’s errand, but my heart goes out to her. Besides, she is a nice girl. She hasn’t been poisoned by the city yet. I’m afraid if I don’t reach out to help her, she is going to
be prey for some other man of her acquaintance whose motives will not be as upstanding as mine.”

She gazed at him a long moment. Then, at once, her expression softened. “I think you are doing a brave thing, son. And a kindness that she will always remember, whatever the outcome. I am proud of you.”

He inclined his head, a mocking expression on his face, for they both knew he’d done nothing yet to be proud of. “Thank you.”

“You’ll keep me informed if you find any information—or if I, too, can help?”

“You, Mother?”

She looked chagrined. “I have to admit that my interest in Rosalind’s investigation far surpasses my latest goal.”

“Which is?”

“Finding you a wife, of course.” Her smile sparkled now. “Of course, lately that has seemed to be my own fool’s errand. Actually, at the moment I fear that finding a missing maid might be far easier than finding the perfect wife for you. You are proving to be a rather difficult man to bend to my will.”

Thinking about the parade of debutantes in whom he had no interest, he inclined his head. “I fear you may be right about that.”

Three mornings later, Rosalind gaped at Nanci. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why on earth would the family be giving us tickets to see the fair again? You know how expensive they are. And an unexpected day off too.”

Nanci pointed one leg out and straightened her black stocking. “You might be the type of girl to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I certainly am not. Mrs. Abrams handed me the two tickets and said
they were for the two of us to use today. So you had best get out of that black dress and into your best gown.”

Rosalind grinned at Nanci’s statement. The last time they’d gotten paid, Nanci had tried to get her to keep a portion of the monies and buy a more flattering day dress. Though she’d been tempted to do the same, so far she’d resolutely sent the majority of her paycheck home each Friday. Any monies she did keep were for emergencies.

Her family had sent her here to discover Miranda’s whereabouts, and, of course, assist her as best she could. She would never spend those precious dollars on a new gown, even though she had to admit that the idea of wearing a new dress with leg-of-mutton sleeves did spark a bit of longing deep inside of her.

Returning to the present, she watched Nanci adjust her bustle, then step into a lovely gown in a deep cerulean blue. What was the right answer? Did she accept the ticket and accept the day off without question? Or did she dare ask the housekeeper about it?

“Rosalind, you have no choice in the matter. If you don’t accept the gift, you are going to look very ungrateful. Now, come help me button this.”

Rosalind stepped behind her and efficiently began fastening the long row of buttons. “I suppose you’re right,” she said.

“I know I am.” When all twenty-eight buttons were fastened, Nanci opened up a box and pulled out a beautiful bonnet with feathers the exact shade of her dress.

Rosalind now felt completely green with envy, and was completely curious as to how Nanci could afford such an ensemble. “Where did you get that dress? And that hat? Did your family send you funds?”

Nanci shook her head. “Of course not. It was a gift.” She smiled slightly. “Now, let’s go. I want to make the train.”

Nanci not only had been given two tickets to the fair, she also
had obtained money for them to take the South Side Rapid Transit train. This time, instead of standing for an eternity with other service workers and tourists on a trolley, they were sitting in comfort as the elevated train sped its way to Jackson Park.

In no time at all, they were walking among the multitudes, fixing their eyes on the White City in awe. And just like last time, the crowds were from all walks of life and many nationalities. Foreign tongues mixed with more familiar ones at just about every corner. Ladies in their finery were escorted by fine gentlemen in their top hats. Children in their perambulators and nannies and older men and women mixed with tourists from almost every country in the civilized world.

Their voices, combined with the heavenly aromas from the various restaurants and street peddlers, provided an experience Rosalind knew would be increasingly hard to describe to her family.

But just as she was about to suggest they go to the Women’s Museum, Nanci tugged on her sleeve. “Let’s go to the Ferris wheel.”

“But you are afraid of it, remember? That is why we gave away our tokens.”

“I changed my mind. Now I would fancy a turn on it, I think.”

From every corner of the fair the Ferris wheel loomed above them. It was an amazing feat of technology—and, Rosalind privately thought, of ingenuity too. But that said, she was more than a bit frightened to even stand near the structure, never mind think about riding on it.

Embarrassed to share her fears, she concentrated on the one Nanci would most likely understand. “A ride on Mr. Ferris’s invention is fifty cents! I could never afford such a thing.”

“You don’t have to be able to afford it.” With a broad, triumphant grin, Nanci opened her purse and pulled out one crisp dollar. “I had a surprise for you!”

Now her suspicions had increased tenfold. “Nanci, where did you get all of this money?”

This time, Nanci didn’t even attempt to pretend she had no secrets. Instead, she smiled sweetly. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Rosalind yearned to take Nanci in a corner and demand she tell her what was going on. But of course this wasn’t the time or the place. Instead, she followed Nanci through the crowds, entered the midway, and proceeded to the Ferris wheel.

Rosalind’s stomach knotted as they waited in line, eventually stepping into a metal cage with almost sixty other people. After the cage was snapped shut, an operator moved the switch, and they lurched toward the sky.

Over and over, the wheel stopped while people were let on and others were let off. And then they lurched even higher into the sky. Some people in their company gripped the sides and peeked out through the mesh in wonder. Others laughed and joked. One poor woman fainted when, apparently, she realized she was afraid of heights.

While Nanci grinned and seemed to enjoy each second, Rosalind felt her mind drift. She was more concerned about how Nanci had gotten her new dress and hat and the Ferris wheel tokens than exploring the wonders surrounding her.

When they finally stepped out of their carriage thirty minutes later, Rosalind was ready for a seat on a bench and perhaps a tall glass of lemonade.