Had that ever been in question? Mercy tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “All proceeds will be given to them.”
Mrs. Sorenson looked down her nose at Mercy, as if she were a simpleton. “There must be a cap. The valuables I alone have donated will fetch more than boys of their nature will need.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean by ‘their nature.’” Or rather, if she did, she hoped her tone of voice would keep Mrs. Sorenson from spouting her opinion next to Franklin, who’d once been a resident of the orphanage. “You won’t find many other young men as hardworking and dependable as the Milligans.”
“Yes, yes.” Mrs. Sorenson nodded her head, as if placating her, but then moved closer. “But you and I both know these boys haven’t been away from the red-light district long enough to forget the low morals they were instilled with. If we give them more money than they need, they’ll use it ill. So I was thinking three hundred dollars would be plenty. That’s a generous workingman’s annual salary.”
Mercy wished she had two fists to clench. “Max will be attending school for more than a year.”
“Ah, yes, but at the meeting, Mrs. Lowe said Robert planned to get a job instead of continuing his education.” She shrugged as if this conversation was as mundane as discussing the lunch menu. “Anything we fetch over three hundred dollars would be better put to use for other Teaville needs.”
Mercy looked at Sadie, who’d been standing quietly beside them. The younger woman’s face had gone pale.
So this wasn’t a dream. This discussion was actually happening.
How could she respond without offending Mrs. Sorenson? The woman had donated a lot for this auction, so her heart had to be in the right place, even if her beliefs weren’t. “I’m afraid living on the East Coast is more expensive than living here—”
“Correct.” The older woman smiled, putting her finger up as if Mercy were a student who’d aced an exam. “Which is why I was telling Troy last night—and he thought I had the right of it—that a Kansas City school would be plenty good enough for them. If they went there, the buying power of three hundred dollars would multiply.”
Mercy blinked. Hadn’t she or Lydia mentioned that Kansas City was a last resort? “If we collect enough to send them to Boston, we will. Max’s intellect is worth it.” Franklin’s hammer had gone quiet, so she lowered her voice. “You know the moral society has chosen to give handmade quilts to the poor instead of cheap wool blankets because we decided not to give the poor what’s good enough for ‘their kind’ but what we would give our own family members. We should do the same for Max and Robert.”
“Yes, but as mentioned, Robert plans to work.” Mrs. Sorenson didn’t seem the least bit deterred. “The money necessary for tuition in Boston is too extravagant for a boy who hasn’t the education my own daughter has. Why, Stella’s tutors declared her to have an excellent mind, and if she couldn’t attend such a prestigious college, why should he?” Mrs. Sorenson’s face lost all hints of congeniality. “And why should my boy have to compete against one of such a background for a spot in that school, if he wishes to go?”
Sadie moved to the table and pretended to fiddle with the piano boxes as Mercy just stood there blinking.
Mrs. Sorenson sniffed. “Troy and I spent a good deal of money on private schools and tutoring so our children wouldn’t be forced to socialize with those who’d lead them astray.” Mrs. Sorenson leaned closer. “It’s not right to be so extravagant as to send these two boys to Boston when many parents sacrifice years of wages to be sure their sons learn apart from the riffraff. The Milligans will surely be content with whatever charity they get, and we can use the rest of the money for other worthy projects.”
“Um . . .” How was she supposed to respond without agreeing, yet keep Mrs. Sorenson’s support?
Without her donations, would they bring in enough money? Three hundred was better than nothing. . . .
“Miss Mercy, why aren’t you saying anything?” Sadie’s voice behind her was rough and scratchy.
She turned to see a mask of rage marring Sadie’s pretty face, a towel crumpled in her right fist.
“I was just thinking. . . .”
“Well, I’ve thought enough, and that’s the most sanctimonious bunch of nonsense I’ve ever heard.” Sadie nodded with enough vehemence she might as well have placed an exclamation point in the air with her head.
Mrs. Sorenson took a step back. “Why, I never.”
Sadie walked straight toward Mrs. Sorenson, her hands balled on her hips. “Do you actually think it right to keep poor children from a good education because somehow rich children are worth more? Well, in case you aren’t aware, a lot of the fathers of those ‘high-society’ boys frequent the district. Your sons don’t need Max and Robert to corrupt them—their own fathers can do it, along with the mothers who refuse to acknowledge that their children have vices that need to be whipped out of them as surely as the children from the poorest homes.”
Mrs. Sorenson’s face was pinched. “Perhaps those high-society men who frequent such areas wouldn’t do so if they’d stayed away from the influence of those beneath them.”
“Hogwash.” Sadie snapped her fingers. “Not one child in this orphanage—even the worst-behaving one we have—can corrupt a man who has good values. The attitudes of the rich, evil men who frequent the district have more of a corrupting influence on their sons than any poor boy in need of schooling, I assure you.”
“And how are you so certain?” Mrs. Sorenson’s face turned bright pink. “You’re just a housekeeper—a very young lady who got a position higher than merited because of your looks.”
“I know,” Sadie spat, “because Mrs. Lowe rescued me from the clutches of such men.” Sadie’s body jerked, and she bit her lip. Her neck and face flushed bright.
Mercy’s blood ran cold. Was that true? Hopefully Sadie hadn’t said that loud enough the others had heard. Her words insinuated—
“You mean you . . . were . . .” Mrs. Sorenson’s eyes grew wide, and she put a hand to her throat.
Sadie’s nod was subtle but definitive.
Mrs. Sorenson took a step back, as if she’d stepped upon unholy ground, then glanced toward her daughter, who now sat silently near the table filled with clocks.
In fact, the whole room was silent. Most everyone was acting busy, but they’d not worked this quietly all day. When had they started listening?
Mercy looked for the oldest member of their group, Mrs. Wisely. If only Nicholas or Lydia were here, they would’ve stopped this conversation before it’d gotten out of hand.
Mrs. Wisely stood by the paintings, not even pretending to be making a list of donations anymore.
“Stella,” Mrs. Sorenson called across the ballroom, beckoning to her daughter.
The pretty blonde cringed.
Mercy could imagine her sinking realization that she was about to have to choose between her friend and her mother. And the poor woman would have to choose her mother.
Sadie’s face was stone hard, though it softened a little as Stella got closer. “I’ve enjoyed being your friend, Stella. I may not have made you a better person, but I sure hope you don’t feel as if I’ve made you worse.”
Sadie looked toward Franklin, who was no longer pretending to be working. “If people stopped worrying about where Max and I came from, what we could’ve done or witnessed, they might see us as a blessing. Spending your life excluding people you’ve decided are beneath you can rob you of a wonderful life with some of them.” Sadie gave Mercy a look that was only seconds away from being ruined with tears, then turned and stormed off.
“Well.” Mrs. Sorenson shook herself as if Sadie’s words had landed on her like dust. “Such an outburst clearly indicates she is not of good stock. At least now Miss Price will no longer be in our group and can’t affect us anymore.”
Not in their group? Sadie?
Mrs. Sorenson had attended meetings since the beginning of the year. D
id she not sympathize with the mission of the moral society? She hadn’t participated much beyond the meetings, but surely she’d realized the thoughts lurking in her head weren’t held by the rest of them.
Mercy cleared her throat in an attempt to find words. “I’m sorry?” She cleared her throat again. “Why do you think Sadie won’t be returning?”
Mrs. Sorenson tucked her chin and frowned as if Mercy had spouted gibberish.
Mrs. Wisely came between them, her body and expression rigid. “We don’t ban people from the moral society because of their past.”
“But such a past?” Mrs. Sorenson shook her head at Mrs. Wisely as if she should have been old enough to know better. “How can we be considered a moral society with members such as her?”
“All are welcome to join us if they truly want to help make our community a better place. We might, however, vote out members if their present immoral or uncharitable actions make them unsuitable.”
Mrs. Sorenson looked aghast. “Did you not hear what she insinuated?”
“I heard,” Mercy answered, her pulse pounding as the entire room watched. What could she do to keep this woman from besmirching Sadie’s name about town? Surely the rest of them would keep it to themselves, but if this was how Mrs. Sorenson felt . . .
Mrs. Sorenson pulled Stella to her side. “Then you understand why Miss Price cannot be part of a group where you, my daughter, and other vulnerable young women spend so much of their time.”
How dare she pull her and Stella into this as if they were too weak to make good decisions on their own? Her whole body trembled, and her heart raced. “Shunning Sadie, who has proven to be nothing but a sweet, shy, hardworking girl, would be wrong if we intend to help those less fortunate than ourselves. How would kicking out a member whose past is like those we’re trying to reach make us more effective?”
Oh, and wasn’t that a pretty speech she’d just made. And yet the truth was, Mrs. Sorenson’s view of Sadie was no different than how Mercy had viewed Aaron only weeks ago. She’d judged him solely by his past, unwilling to see who he was at present. She clenched her arm across her middle. “I . . . I struggle with how I perceive people too, Mrs. Sorenson. But being moral isn’t doing what’s easiest or what makes you feel comfortable, but rather, it’s choosing to do right even when it hurts, when it costs, when it’s difficult. So if you force out the girl you were once happy enough to let your daughter befriend, I won’t have anything more to do with such a moral society.”
Mrs. Sorenson scoffed. “If she returns, I won’t. Since I’ve donated far more to the moral society than you or she ever will, it’s easy enough to see who’d benefit the society more.”
“But, Mrs. Sorenson, it’s not who—”
A heavy hand gripped her shoulder and squeezed hard.
She winced and looked up at her brother.
“Let’s not argue anymore about Miss Price. It’s probably best she no longer be involved.” His jaw was set, and his eyes had that penetrating look indicating he’d brook no argument.
And here she’d thought Mrs. Sorenson’s speech had been outlandish. Was he truly suggesting, in front of everyone, that Sadie’s past made her unsuitable to help, yet his current trips to the district shouldn’t affect his position at the orphanage?
“But—”
“No buts. It’s best to stay out of it.” His gaze stayed pinned to hers. He seemed rather certain she’d not call him out on his own hypocrisy.
His behavior wasn’t the business of anyone in this room, and yet the audacity!
Charlie moseyed up to her other side, her arms across her chest. “I figure God would prefer us to choose our members by their morals, not by their pocketbooks.”
“What would you know, Mrs. Gray? You can’t even recognize that wearing menswear is inappropriate.”
“It’s called a split skirt, and I don’t know of no men wearing them.”
Mercy held up her hand to stop Mrs. Sorenson from entering the brawl their feistiest member was likely itching for. She didn’t want anyone leaving the moral society, if she could help it. Mrs. Sorenson had donated time and hours for the orphans’ betterment, even if she disagreed on how they could be bettered.
She was not an enemy. There might even be hurt or pain behind her bitter assumptions.
And her brother wasn’t an enemy either, though he was certainly trying his best to ruin her opportunity to do the one job she thought herself capable of—the one job she’d like to see through before returning to housekeeping with Patricia. “I appreciate the help you are to the society, Mrs. Sorenson. But this auction was planned to benefit Max and Robert, so all proceeds will go to them. We can plan another fundraiser to meet other needs.”
“I agree,” said Mrs. Wisely with a nod.
The other moral-society members, who’d been brave enough to step up to the battle lines, muttered agreement too. Well, all except Stella. The poor girl looked as if she’d swallowed a frog.
Timothy took a deep breath but didn’t say anything.
“Fine,” Mrs. Sorenson huffed. “I’ll take my things back and wait to donate them to a cause I’m more passionate about.” She turned to Franklin, who was no longer kneeling with his hammer in hand but rather sitting on the floor, his legs splayed out and his body slumped as if he’d just run several miles. “Mr. Cleghorn, it seems I need your help reloading my things.”
She turned and headed toward the tables filled with her late father’s possessions, her heels clacking hard against the wooden floor. Before reaching the table, she turned back with a frown, since the quiet of the room had likely alerted her to the fact that Franklin hadn’t followed.
He unfolded himself and stood. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to find Sadie and make sure she’s all right.” He laid down his hammer and headed for the stairwell.
Mrs. Sorenson turned immediately and looked past Mercy’s shoulder. “Mr. Firebrook?”
Mercy turned to see him sitting at a table beside her, leaning against its top as if he’d been there quite a while.
“Sure, I’ll help.” He flashed Mercy a genuine smile and whispered as he passed, “It’ll get her out quicker.” He strolled across the room in the older woman’s angry wake.
“This entire table here.” Mrs. Sorenson pointed to her father’s war memorabilia. “And this stack of watercolor paintings—no, first the jewelry.”
Timothy went over to help, and Mercy leaned against the table. Oh, what had she done? Not only had she ruined the auction by fussing over Mrs. Sorenson’s uncharitable attitude, but she’d let her brother’s hypocrisy go unchallenged.
Charlie smacked her shoulder as hard as a man might smack another. “Right proud of you.” Then she sauntered back to the saddle she’d been polishing.
Proud? Had Charlie not watched her forfeit all these donations because she’d chosen to take down Mrs. Sorenson’s pride in front of everyone? Without the Sorensons’ things, the moral society’s work, advertising, and time had been wasted.
Mercy closed her eyes and slumped. Telling Max and Robert they would have to go to Boston underfunded or choose a less prestigious school would not be one of her proudest moments.
Stella sneaked over to her side. Though she was taller than Mercy, she’d slumped to her height. “Would you tell Sadie good-bye for me?”
Mercy nodded, and Stella left to help carry away the valuable items already listed in the auction advertisements.
With all the “help” she’d been to the orphans lately, maybe her brother wasn’t the only one who would be better off not working at the mansion.
25
Mercy followed her brother and Franklin down the stairs as they carried out the last of Mrs. Sorenson’s donated items.
Though the other moral-society members were rearranging the remaining donations to cover the emptied tables, she couldn’t stay upstairs any longer. Nor could she handle one more person telling her how proud they were that she’d stood up to Mrs. Sorenson.
If
they only knew she’d chosen not to expose Timothy’s hypocrisy because she was afraid of what would happen to her. . . .
Well, she’d no longer keep Timothy’s secret from the one person who most needed to know.
In the music room, Patricia was reading on the couch, while Owen lay on the Persian rug, drawing what looked like a castle full of potbellied stickmen.
Mercy sat in the chair next to her sister-in-law, wrapping her hand in the folds of her skirt. How did one start a conversation that would end with exposing someone’s spouse as a secret drunk?
“Owen?” She cleared her throat. “Why don’t you see if Cook has any treats?”
His eyes went wide. “Like cookies?” He didn’t even wait for her to answer before scrambling off the floor and out the door.
Patricia laid the book on her chest and frowned at Mercy. “Why would you spoil his appetite this close to dinner?”
Because it had been the surest way to have him disappear for a while. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Patricia rubbed a hand across her brow. “I heard about Sadie.”
She’d heard about Sadie? What about Mrs. Sorenson? “I suppose Timothy talked to you?”
“Yes.” Patricia stiffened. “I’m surprised Sadie brought up . . . well, such a past.”
“I certainly don’t think she meant to.” The poor girl hadn’t been thinking clearly in the heat of the argument. “Please tell me you won’t tell anyone.”
Patricia shrugged. “Not my business, but I must say, a woman like that working here with so many men on staff . . .”
Did she really think that possible of Sadie? Though the Lowes’ young housekeeper had only lived with them a few weeks, Patricia should’ve at least recognized Sadie was dependable and loyal. Of course, since Patricia hadn’t bothered to do more than learn her name so Sadie would bring her clean bedding and mop up spills, perhaps she wouldn’t have figured that out about her.
“I’m not worried about Sadie’s behavior, Patricia.” Learning of her past had been a surprise, but it was clear that Sadie had put that life behind her. Right now, her brother’s future was much more concerning. Mercy sat on the edge of her seat, trying not to cringe too much as she plunged into what needed to be said. “I am, however, worried about your husband’s behavior.”
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