Illuminated in the dying sunset’s light, the silhouettes of several wagons pulled into position in the drive. How long until someone realized he wasn’t up there helping? Night seemed to be in a hurry, thankfully. Though the sky was not fully dark, the stars were out and the deepening shadows should keep people from noticing what they were doing.
Quietly, they made their way among the shadows, carting armfuls of goods from cellar to cabin as Aaron kept a lookout for Zachary or anyone else who might be watching. If the men who were coming to collect this stuff showed up before they finished, would he find himself in a fight once again?
On their third and final trip, a small, dark form bustled out of the mansion’s shadow.
Aaron grabbed Jimmy and pulled him close. “Get to the cabin—stay quiet.”
The shadow kept coming.
Aaron gave the boy a slight push and then put himself between Jimmy and the shadowy figure, his body tense, his fists ready. But the figure transformed into the round, petite form of Cook, and his muscles unwound.
“Mr. Firebrook?” Cook dipped her head in such a way she was probably squinting in an effort to see him.
“Yes?” His heart started to pound. He set the painting he had behind him in hopes she’d not notice it. Who could he trust? The Lowes and Mercy, of course, but who was hiding these things for Jimmy? He thought well of all the staff, but someone was pretending to be more loyal than they were.
“The men are looking for you up at the wagons. They need—” She stopped short and cocked her head to the side. “What are you doing with those things?”
If she was Jimmy’s mother’s accomplice, hopefully all he had now were things the boy had tried to swipe on his own. “Taking care of them. Tell everyone I’ll be up soon. I’m almost done.” Picking the painting off the ground, he turned for the cabin.
The canvas under his arm didn’t move with him.
“Now, wait a minute.” Cook’s grip on the painting held fast. “I didn’t see you bid on anything, and this is—”
“I’ll explain later.” When he could think of something he could tell her without fear of alerting Jimmy’s mother’s plant that the ruse had been discovered.
The little woman snapped upright. “Or you can tell me now.”
“I don’t have—”
“Mr. Firebrook.” Her tone warmed with warning.
“I’m putting them somewhere until I have time to get them to their rightful owner.” He gently tugged at the painting. Thankfully she loosened her grasp. “Because as you said, I need to get to the wagons.”
He walked as nonchalantly as he could toward the cabin, only allowing himself one look over his shoulder to see what Cook was doing.
She’d disappeared.
His chest puffed with a huge inhale, and he sped up to check on Jimmy.
They’d not lit any lamps, and the shadows of night had overtaken his cabin. “Jimmy?” He set down the painting and the last vase full of silverware he’d taken from the cellar.
The sound of the wind and horses’ neighing and stomping in the distance were all that answered.
Sweeping his gaze back and forth, Aaron squinted but saw no one. He made his way to his bedroom. “Jimmy?”
With nothing but silence in his ears, his heartbeat filled up the noiseless void. “Jimmy,” he called louder this time. With a quick turn of the switch, he started the lights.
The boy was nowhere to be seen.
He scrambled outside and jogged to the wagons. Had Jimmy started loading?
The only people he recognized in the crowd were Max and Franklin.
He tried to breathe evenly so his brain would work.
Which way would Jimmy go? Had the people his mother sent already found him? Had he gone back inside the mansion? Had he played Aaron for a fool and was now warning his accomplice that their plans had been foiled?
Aaron shook the doubt from his mind. He could worry about that later. If Jimmy’s story was true, he had little time to save him if the worst had happened.
30
With a big smile on her face, Lydia finished counting the money the auction had generated and closed the cashbox. “We did so well, Mercy. This was a great idea.”
Mercy carried a full dustpan to the trash chute in the wall that went all the way down to the basement. “Did we get enough to send them to Boston?” If Max and Robert were completely taken care of, would that alleviate her guilt over what she’d said to Jimmy earlier? How could she have told him he was unlovable and unwanted?
When she’d heard Nicholas had sent Jimmy to his room after he’d cursed at a guest, she had wondered if what she’d said was responsible for his escalating belligerence. Just when she was readying to confront her brother, she’d caused problems elsewhere.
Lydia stood and stretched. “Enough that I feel certain they can make it on their own if Robert brings in a modest income.”
She sighed. “I’d hoped we’d get enough he wouldn’t have to work and would change his mind and finish school.”
Lydia shook her head. “Though their every need is met here, Robert’s always begging for more hours at the glass factory, and he’s asked several times to quit school to work full time. I believe they’ll do just fine, so I’m going to count them a success.” She slipped her arm around Mercy’s shoulders. “And you’ve been a big part of that. Not only because of tonight, but because of the work you’ve put into them as well. You should have a smile on your face.”
“But they were easy.” She squeezed the handle of the dustpan. “It’s the harder children I’m not sure I’ve helped any.”
“Like Jimmy?” Lydia backed up to look at her.
“I feel like we’re failing him.” Though he’d responded to Aaron for a while, he’d reverted right back to his old self. And any hope of her brother getting through to him was now gone.
“Sometimes we come to the point where all we can do is pray. God knows what each child needs, and maybe it’s nothing we have.”
But watching Jimmy flounder was agony. She crossed over to the portico balcony. A wagon full of auction winnings was leaving mansion property, the light of its lanterns barely visible at the end of the drive. Had her brother helped at all with the loading? She’d not seen him since before the auction started.
And Jimmy had gotten out of work entirely with a few choice words.
Was he in fact unlovable? Hard to love, yes, but how had telling him that done him any good? She rubbed her arm below her elbow and headed back to help finish the sweeping. How would she have felt to have had some trusted adult tell her she’d been unlovable? Aaron and a few other classmates had told her she was worthless—and she’d had a hard time not believing them—but she’d had parents who’d loved her deeply and many men and women in her church who’d treated her no differently than the other children. Their love and acceptance made up for how her peers constantly pointed out her flaws.
A quick thumping echoed up the nearby stairwell, and Aaron charged into the ballroom.
She was about to smile, but the way his eyes darted about made her call out to him instead. “What’s the matter?”
His wide-eyed gaze took in each person helping them clean up before looking at her. “Uh, is Jimmy up here?”
“If he is, he’s avoiding me.”
Aaron turned back around and rushed downstairs.
“I wonder what Jimmy did this time.” Franklin shook his head as he and Mr. Parker walked past her with a table, the last bit of furniture that had sold at auction.
She sighed. Evidently the first thing Jimmy did was escape his room. Who knew what he’d done after that? But if anyone could handle him, it’d be Aaron—though he had seemed a bit frantic. “Could you check on them, Mr. Cleghorn?”
Franklin gave her a nod and backed into the elevator with his end of the table.
Lydia walked up to her with the cashbox tucked under her arm. “I’m going to put this in the safe and make sure Nicholas has gotten our two into bed.”
Her expression turned amused. “Knowing Isabelle, though, he’s probably reading her favorite fairy tale three times over and hasn’t even started in with the water requests.”
If only her brother’s care of the orphans gave her the joy Lydia always had when talking about Nicholas’s care of their children.
After helping the maids finish the floors, Mercy headed downstairs, her feet heavy with the knowledge that her family might be packing up a wagon and heading off the property themselves within the week.
As she entered the second-floor hallway, her brother passed by without a glance toward her. She took another step forward, her heart thundering and her palms clammy. She’d thought she’d not see him until tomorrow. “Timothy?”
He stopped and turned, a newspaper in hand.
As a little girl she’d thought he was the greatest, strongest, wisest big brother a girl could ever have. She wouldn’t sleep tonight unless she knew whether or not that childhood image of him was completely tarnished.
Though she should probably ask about Jimmy first, in case her next question didn’t go so well. “Have you checked on Jimmy?”
“Why?”
“Mr. Firebrook is looking for him.”
Her brother shook his head. “Figures he’d not stay put.” He blew out an indifferent huff. “Let the gardener take care of him. If I don’t have to deal with Jimmy until morning, I’ll count myself lucky.”
“How can you say that? An orphanage director shouldn’t talk of his charges that way. Perhaps . . .” Mercy swallowed and forced herself to continue. “Perhaps this isn’t the best job for . . . us. I think it might be best if you go back to concentrating on banking, especially considering what I learned in the district earlier today.” Her voice trembled, but she kept her gaze fixed on him so she wouldn’t miss any tell or tic that would confirm the truth.
“You know I’m against you going there.” His expression grew strained.
Oh, God, is there any hope he’s only worried for my safety instead of his anonymity?
She swallowed twice so she could continue. “I know, but I had to help Caroline. She’s been tending a woman named Lily White.” She watched his face, but he showed no recognition. “I gave her medicine, took care of her sick children, and found this.” She pulled his blue double cuff link from her pocket.
He looked at the item in her hand, his jaw hard. After a moment of silence, he took it and slipped it into his breast pocket.
She left her empty palm out between them. “Are you not going to say anything?”
He shrugged, his face carefully blank. “Thanks for finding it for me.”
“That’s all you’re going to say?” She dropped her hand. “You’re not even going to have the decency to redden over where I found it?”
He rolled up his newspaper. “I see no reason to discuss it with you.”
A thumping behind her on the stairwell grew louder and faster.
So he’d not outright deny it? He wasn’t even going to make up a lame excuse? “So it’s true? You’re not just drinking in the saloons, you’re . . .” Oh she just couldn’t say it.
Timothy heaved a sigh. “As I said, I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation to be having with my sister.”
If she’d had two hands, she might have been tempted to strangle him. “I think we should discuss it, considering it affects our work—”
“Are you saying I’m not good enough to watch a few kids?” He cocked his head and looked at her with narrowed eyes.
Not these kids anyway. “What I’m saying is there’s no shame in stepping down from a job that’s not right for you.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinions, Mercy. Nothing I choose to do with my free time will keep us from the job we’ve been hired to do. I suggest you keep your thoughts about my personal business to yourself.”
But his partaking in what the red-light district offered meant he wasn’t worthy of this job. He was too often absent. He wasn’t the role model the boys needed.
And once someone with a big mouth discovered what Timothy was up to, the scandal would darken the orphanage’s reputation.
His personal business was not private enough to keep it from affecting others, no matter what he said.
But there was no time to discuss it right now with someone coming down the stairs. “At least check on Jimmy.”
He sighed. “I’ll take care of Jimmy. Don’t worry.”
“Hey, Miss McClain!” Max appeared at the bottom of the stairwell.
Though usually not a demonstrative young man, he came up behind her and gave her a giant hug. “Thank you for getting us enough money to go to Boston.”
She patted the hand he left on her shoulder and mustered up a smile, though it was quite stiff. “I won’t say it was nothing, but I would’ve worked ten times harder if I’d had to.”
Timothy started off for his room. Did he really think their conversation was over?
Of course he would, considering he’d told her to keep her opinions to herself. She rooted her feet to the floor to keep from charging after him.
At least he hadn’t been gallivanting about in the district tonight . . . or had he? She’d seen him at the beginning of the auction, but he’d not been there during the bidding.
She scrunched her eyes tight.
“Are you all right, Miss McClain?”
She nodded but couldn’t muster a smile again. “Just tired.”
“Would you like me to tuck Owen in for you?”
“I’d be grateful if you would, Max.” The smile slowly returned, and she took in a big gulp of air.
He frowned at her. “Why don’t you go get yourself some chamomile tea or something? You look as if you’re coming down with something.”
The churning in her gut definitely was making her feel ill, but it wasn’t because she was sick. “I might just do that.” Otherwise she’d never get to sleep.
She looked down the hall toward the Lowes’ room as Max headed to Owen’s. Telling Nicholas about her brother’s moral failings tonight wasn’t worth interrupting Nicholas’s family routine. Holding the information a few more hours wouldn’t hurt any sleeping boys.
And no need to barge in on Patricia. She’d let her sister-in-law hear about her husband’s infidelity from his own mouth. After Nicholas was informed and fired them, Timothy would have to confess to her soon enough.
Mercy trudged down the stairs and toward the kitchen. Nothing that could calm what ailed her would be found there, but she might as well try something in hopes of not tossing and turning all night, imagining how her conversation with Nicholas would go come morning, how she could have any sort of good relationship with her brother once they were fired, or what would happen to her once her family was dismissed from the mansion.
In the kitchen with only a solitary candle alight on the table, Caroline sat alone with her head in her hands.
“I’m sorry if I’m intruding.” Mercy turned up a lamp and headed toward the icebox. Had Caroline come down with whatever Katelyn had? “Do you need me to get you something?”
Caroline didn’t move. Her teacup sat beside her, full and ignored.
After pouring herself a glass of buttermilk, Mercy sat beside Caroline and waited for her to look up, but she didn’t. “Are you all right?” she whispered. Though Caroline was quite reserved, she wasn’t one for ignoring people. Had she fallen asleep propped up like that?
Mercy put her hand on the housekeeper’s shoulder.
Caroline shook her head, sat back, and wiped at her eyes.
Caroline was crying? She’d never seen the woman in tears before. “Have you come down with what Katelyn has? Do I need to get you medicine?”
The sound that came from the head housekeeper was a cross between a hiccup and laugh. Caroline hung her head in her hands again. “As if medicine could fix it.”
“What needs to be fixed?” She lightly rubbed the woman’s back, not knowing what to do to comfort someone usually so stalwart.
Caroline took her teacup into her hands, but instead of drinking it, she stared at the brown liquid. “I went to check on Lily White’s family, to make sure she got the medicine I gave you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I delivered it, what with the auction and all. . . .” She’d been so blindsided by her brother’s involvement with Lily, she’d not thought to tell Caroline she’d taken care of the Whites. Did Caroline know about her brother and Lily? Mercy’s stomach churned enough she could’ve made her own buttermilk.
“It’s not that.” Caroline played with her spoon. “Katelyn’s croup was getting bad, and Mrs. Lowe said evening air helps. I was pacing the porch with her, but figured I could do something more useful while I was out. So I went to check on them. But . . .”
Had she found them dead? With all the worrying Mercy had done over her brother, she’d not thought about the Whites after she’d left. “Are they all right?”
She nodded but didn’t say anything more.
“Well then, what did you find when you got there?”
“That I’m a gullible woman.” She shoved her tea away.
Mercy flinched at the anger in Caroline’s voice. What kind of answer was that? “You found out you were gullible?”
“Yes, because I believed the nice things Henri told me on that ride he took me on the other day.”
What could Caroline have learned about Henri from the prostitute? Mercy pressed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. Did she learn the same thing she’d learned about her brother earlier, that a man she loved visited Lily?
“Lily was feeling better—physically, but not in her head. She got to talking. . . .” Caroline added a spoonful of sugar to her tea but made no move to drink it. “When district women are sick and unable to work, that’s the worst time for them. They aren’t distracted by simply surviving, and they start to think about their lives. About how they wish it would end, or if they should end it themselves . . .” Caroline dropped her spoon and leaned back in her chair. “You probably didn’t notice, but Lily’s pregnant on top of being sick, and she said . . . Well, she knows my sister.”
Caroline looked at the candle’s flame flickering in front of her, then snuffed it out. “Lily said she’s been thinking about how to get rid of her baby this time and was thinking about doing what my sister did—convince one of her johns the baby was his.”
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