Secrets of Sloane House (31 page)

A dozen choice words filled Reid’s head, none of which were suitable for mixed company. “I will do my best to see that your suffering is not in vain.”

Eloisa looked at his mother. “I believe I need to go home now. I hate to impose, but could you, perhaps, summon a maid to help me repair myself? I can’t go home like this.”

His mother smiled. “I know just the person to help you, dear. Rosalind. She is staying up in one of the guest bedrooms. Of course, she knows how to dress hair and mend torn hems and seams. We’ll have you looking as fresh as can be in no time.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Armstrong.”

Every trace of humor left his mother’s expression. “Please don’t thank me. It is the very least we can do. And I promise, it is not all we will do, either. Now, Reid, please go knock on Rosalind’s door and
tell her that I’ll be walking Eloisa to her room in five minutes’ time. And then you may go to bed.”

“Mother—”

“Your day will be tomorrow, son. For now, I think it might be best if Eloisa and I have a few moments to speak privately. And the only way that will happen is if you remove yourself from the situation.”

He knew she was right. With a new resolve, he strode to Eloisa and bowed in front of her formally. “Miss Carstairs, I bid you good evening.”

“I can never thank you enough.”

“I assure you, it was an honor and a privilege to assist you.”

After kissing his mother lightly on the cheek, he left them and strode up the stairs to quietly make his way to Rosalind’s room, hoping all the while that they were all doing the right thing.

Only God knew. Perhaps only the good Lord would ever know for sure.

CHAPTER 31

H
ow far she’d come. As Rosalind methodically pinned up Eloisa Carstairs’ hair and applied cold compresses to her bruised cheek, she realized that in many ways she’d grown into herself while in Chicago.

Just a few weeks previously, she’d been a timid, rather self-centered girl. Not spoiled, but rather unaware of the world around her, her family, her small farm in Wisconsin. The problems one faced while living in a big city like Chicago had been as foreign to her as the United States must be to the natives from West Africa at the fair.

Rosalind remembered her first glimpse of the foreigners. She’d stared at them curiously, quite unable to fathom that they were all the same human race. The men had seemed too different from the men she’d known. Their dress—or lack of it—such a distraction that she’d forgotten that such things didn’t really matter at the end of the day.

As she calmly completed dressing Miss Carstairs’ hair and then
painstakingly repaired the torn hem of her dress, the tear in its lace, and the rip in its sleeve, Rosalind felt less dismay and shock and more concern and sympathy.

That was the difference. She was less inclined to do nothing, more determined to make a difference as best she could.

Forty minutes after Reid had awoken her with two firm raps of his knuckles on the face of her door, Rosalind was saying good-bye to Miss Carstairs.

“Are you certain there isn’t anything else I may do for you, miss?”

“You are too kind.” Eloisa gave her a shaky smile. “Thank you, but I think I am sufficiently presentable to make it past our butler without him alarming the household.”

“I know this is none of my business, but wouldn’t it be good if your family knew what happened?” Reid had prepared her with the truth, knowing that she would never betray Miss Carstairs.

“It wouldn’t be good at all. All a woman has is her reputation, you know.”

Rosalind did know that. She also knew that no good would come of her interfering in things that were not her business. “Good evening, miss. I will hope and pray that one day this evening will be just a faint memory.”

“I doubt that will ever happen. But perhaps it doesn’t need to be,” she said before walking out of Rosalind’s room with the elegance of a young lady who had nothing more on her mind than satin slippers and brand-new hair ribbons.

Five hours later, Rosalind was facing Reid across the breakfast table, where he had insisted she dine rather than in the kitchens. He was as immaculately dressed as always, but there were new lines of stress around his lips and shadows under his eyes.

He was sipping coffee but not eating. She was doing the same thing.

“I hope Miss Carstairs arrived at her house safely last night?”

“She did. Our driver took her home. She also sent a missive this morning that everything was fine. No one suspected a thing, not even her lady’s maid.”

“I am glad of that.”

“She asked me to convey her thanks to you, by the way. If not for your willingness to rouse out of a deep sleep to repair her hair and gown, she wouldn’t have been able to go home with no one the wiser.”

“It was nothing. I was glad to help.”

“Everything happens for a reason, isn’t that so? I guess it was fortuitous that you were staying here.”

“I can’t help but wish that she hadn’t been . . . attacked.”

“That goes without saying.”

“Children, go to the sideboard and fix yourselves a plate of breakfast,” Mrs. Armstrong said as she entered the room.

“Mother, I’m not hungry.”

“I imagine you are not, but that hardly matters. Eat. We have a long day ahead of us, Reid.”

He stared at his mother for the span of two beats, then nodded and stood up. “You’re right, of course.”

Mrs. Armstrong pointedly looked at Rosalind. “You too, Rosalind. You won’t make Eloisa’s day brighter by refusing to eat. I can promise you that.”

The commonsense advice sounded so like something her own mother would say that Rosalind got to her feet and dutifully followed the instruction. As she took a generous spoonful of eggs and a rasher of bacon, Reid winked.

“My mother is a force to be reckoned with,” he teased.

“So I am learning.” After adding two pieces of toast to her plate, she returned to her place, content to eat quietly while Reid and his mother discussed plans they had previously made.

She concentrated on pushing her troubles to one side and consuming her small breakfast, paying little attention to talk about Mrs. Armstrong’s dress fitting and Reid’s intention to visit the bank at the end of the week. But then their conversation turned to Douglass and Veronica. Almost immediately, it became apparent that they were planning to go to Sloane House—without her.

All traces of her appetite vanished.

Reid apparently noticed that she pushed the last triangle of her toast to one side and guessed what she was thinking. “I hope you are not disappointed that you will not be joining us?” he asked.

She couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t want her to be there. “Forgive me, but I think I need to go as well.”

Reid looked a bit taken aback by her firm manner. “That is not a good idea.”

“I don’t understand why that is a concern,” she said pertly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“None of what has happened has been a good idea,” she explained. “That is what I meant.”

Reid and his mother exchanged a long look.

As if taking up the gauntlet that had just been passed, Mrs. Armstrong spoke. “Rosalind, I can understand your need to keep involved. But your appearance would only cause concern.”

Rosalind thought quickly. “You don’t need to make me out to be your equal, ma’am. I could go as your companion.”

“But I will be there. She won’t need a companion if she isn’t alone,” Reid pointed out.

Rosalind waved her hands. “Then be unusual. I just feel like I need to be there.” Looking beseechingly at Mrs. Armstrong, she pressed her case. “Please.”

The older woman stared at her a long moment, her mouth set in a grim line. “Rosalind, other factors need to be taken in consideration as well. I fear our visit is going to be difficult.”

“Which would be putting it mildly,” Reid interjected.

Mrs. Armstrong continued. “All things considered, I would rather you not be there to get mixed up in it. They could say some harsh things that I’d rather you not hear.”

Rosalind wondered if Mrs. Armstrong had any idea about things that happened and were said outside the stately walls of her beautiful home. “I appreciate your concern, ma’am, but I think it’s only fair that you allow me to make this decision. After all, I am already involved. And my journey here began because my sister went missing. It’s possible that we’ll learn something about Miranda.”

“I’m afraid this has every indication of being a volatile conversation,” Reid warned.

“I promise I will sit quietly.”

“I don’t feel good about this, but I suppose we have no choice.”

Reid looked resigned. “But, Rosalind,” he continued, “if I allow you to accompany us, you must remain in the background. Let me drive the conversation. Any interference on your part will only make things worse.”

“I promise. I’ll be quiet and unobtrusive.”

Gazing at her, he shook his head. “If only that was something you could do.”

When she met his eyes, her heart flipped a bit. Suddenly, she understood that he wasn’t only speaking of the visit to Sloane House. He was talking about them.

Caught off guard, she sipped her coffee and then bit into the remains of her toast. The funny thing was that she did understand. Whereas before she might have been tempted to rush headlong into each conversation, certain that only she could make a difference to Miranda, she was now learning the benefits of biding her tongue and time—and remembering that she wasn’t alone.

And that sometimes it was even better to rely on others, because they could do things much better than she could herself. It was both humbling and exhilarating to realize that the simple act of trusting another could reap great rewards.

“Thank you for allowing me to go and for everything you have done. Already, you have done so much for me. I am grateful to you both.”

Mrs. Armstrong took a bracing sip of tea, then said darkly, “Let’s just hope our efforts aren’t in vain.”

And on that note, Mrs. Armstrong stood up and walked out of the room.

Only later did Rosalind realize that Reid’s mother had never followed her own advice. Her only breakfast had been a pot of strong tea.

CHAPTER 32

T
he three of them set out for Sloane House on foot a few minutes after ten. It was, of course, far too early to respectfully pay a social call. But they weren’t calling on the family for social reasons.

For most of the five-block journey, Rosalind had walked behind Reid and his mother. Though he’d attempted to coerce her to walk by their side, she’d murmured something about being more comfortable trailing them. Only when they’d stopped in front of Sloane House did she join them, her eyes wide and her mouth set in a tight line.

His mother looked no less apprehensive. “Do you truly think this is the right thing to do, Reid?” she asked, for at least the fifth time since they’d begun their walk.

Remembering the shadows under Eloisa’s eyes, he said the same thing he’d uttered the other four times. “Of course it’s the right thing. We cannot simply stand back and do nothing.” Looking at Rosalind, he asked, “Will you be all right? I have a feeling this will be difficult for you.”

Rosalind lifted her chin. “I will be fine.”

Reid almost smiled. He did admire her spunk.

Looking up at the broad façade of Sloane House, with its limestone bricks and many gables, Reid vividly recalled his first visit there. He’d been in awe not only of the house but of the family and everything the Sloane name represented. He’d been proud to make such an acquaintance. Now he knew better. Now he knew what the name really signified and what the grand home hid inside.

Beside him, his mother gazed at the house as well. She wore a frown, and a small wrinkle marred her forehead. “I sometimes wish the right thing wasn’t always so hard.”

“I’ve wished that a time or two as well. But as you once told me years ago, the Lord doesn’t promise us an easy life. Only a fulfilling one.”

His mother wrinkled her nose. “I fear I said that before I had ever been tested.”

He chuckled. “Ladies, shall we soldier on?”

Rosalind nodded while his mother shook out her skirts and then led the way up the steps. “Of course. I may be nervous, but even I know nothing gets done by putting it off.”

Hodgeson answered their bell within seconds. His normally impassive face softened in recognition. “Mrs. Armstrong, Master Armstrong, good morning.” When he looked at Rosalind, he inhaled sharply. “I hope all is well with your family, sir?”

Reid nodded. “Good morning, Hodgeson. My mother and I are here to pay a call on the Sloane family.”

The butler’s expression became more guarded. “Whom did you wish to see?”

“All of them,” his mother said crisply. “We need to see as many Sloanes as are home.”

The man had just stepped backward so they could enter the grand foyer. “Beg your pardon?”

“We’d like to see Douglass, Veronica, and Mr. and Mrs. Sloane, if they are available,” Reid murmured. “And please convey that it would be in their best interests if they were.”

“I will see who is receiving at this early hour.”