If only she knew what that was.
“I don’t know anything,” she answered at last.
He raised his chin. Stared at her. His eyes were dark and cold.
Sharp, like a reptile’s.
“I do.”
“Sir—”
He ran his hand up her arm, finally digging his fingers into the soft skin right above her elbow. “It’s Douglass, remember? Now, why don’t you tell me what’s been going on in that pretty head of yours.”
“Sir, the truth is that we . . . Nanci and I had a falling out. She wouldn’t speak to me about you,” Rosalind said in a rush. “I asked her about what happened between the two of you at the fair, but she wouldn’t tell me.”
“So you were curious? What, exactly, did you want to know?”
She felt her body tremble. With her arm in his tight grip, she knew he felt her tremors too.
A new light entered his eyes. It looked a bit like amusement, a bit like pleasure.
She had no choice but to answer. “Only if she was okay. And if she was in love with you,” she improvised quickly.
He dropped her arm. “She was not in love. Not with me, anyway. But surely you had to have known that.”
“I knew nothing. She refused to say a word.”
“Were you jealous of her happiness?”
Happiness? She shook her head. “No, sir. I—I just was worried about her. That’s all.”
“So many women leaving our house. First Miranda, then Tilly. Now Nanci. I wonder who will be next?”
She was scared. Frightened. But she couldn’t back down now. “Douglass, d–did you know Miranda well?”
It was as if he’d been prodded with a stick. He stepped back in a hurry. “I knew her well enough.”
“Do you know what happened to her?”
A line formed between his brows as he studied her a bit more closely. “I gave Nanci funds to leave. To go back to her family,” he said, suddenly changing the subject back to Nanci.
“You did?”
His lip curled in distaste. “She was in a family way, it seems.” He sighed. “I suppose it couldn’t be helped. Anyway, I gave her funds and she left. We, uh, both decided it would be best if no one else knew. Now this secret is your burden too. But of course if you tell, you’ll ruin her reputation forever, and that would be such a terrible thing.” He paused. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, yes, sir.”
Almost imperceptibly, his posture relaxed. “I’m so glad we understand each other now. Do be careful of your curiosity, Rosalind. It killed the cat, you know.” And then he turned and walked away, his gait slow and leisurely.
She, on the other hand, felt as if she could be wrung out, she was so caught off guard by their conversation. All she wanted to do was run to her room and scream out her frustration and cry out her self-pity.
Instead, she did what was expected and walked briskly down the hall and into the kitchens. Cook was waiting for her, arms over her chest, her face flushed with disapproval. “We all have work that must be done, Rosalind. Your lollygagging is hurting all of us.” With a disdainful look, she added, “Do you even care anymore?”
“Of course I care.”
“Then what do you have to say for yourself? What took you so long to deliver the tray?”
“Nothing. I have nothing to say anymore.” Seeing a stack of clean linen napkins, she picked them up. “I’ll go press these now.”
Cook looked a bit taken aback, then with a more curious gaze, she nodded. “Yes. Do that.”
As she walked away, Rosalind realized that she had no more tears to cry. Well, that was something, she supposed. But although she now knew what happened to Nanci, she still had no idea what had happened to Miranda.
Why was Douglass willing to tell her about Nanci but avoided talking about her sister?
CHAPTER 23
It wasn’t until late that afternoon that Rosalind had time to run out to the street and look for Minerva. Not only did she hope to help out the flower girl, but she felt that her presence at Sloane House could only help the rest of the servants. Everyone was so exhausted, their nerves so frayed, any new addition to the staff could only help the strained circumstances inside the house.
To Rosalind’s relief, Minerva was standing at her usual corner, her box of flowers lying on the ground next to her feet. Both the chrysanthemums and Minerva looked a bit wilted. Rosalind wished she’d thought to bring her a glass of water.
Minerva’s expression brightened a bit when she recognized Rosalind, but then she seemed to carefully tamp it down. Perhaps she didn’t want Rosalind to think they’d actually become friends.
After pausing for a moment, doing her best to rethink what she was about to do, Rosalind strode forward.
“Hello, Minerva.”
“Rosalind. Running errands today?”
“No. Um, actually, I came out here to speak with you.”
“Is that right? Are you still looking for your sister?”
“I am.”
“And how goes the search?”
“I haven’t been too successful, I fear. Actually, I haven’t accomplished much at all. It’s been unusually busy at Sloane House, especially for the last couple of days. I only have a few minutes to be out here.”
Minerva nodded like she’d suspected that. “Lots of folks coming and going from that house, and at all hours of the day and night.”
“Yes, the family likes to entertain.”
“Like I told you, sometimes it’s best to accept how things are and move on. It’s easier that way.”
“I imagine so. Um, actually, since we’re discussing change and such, I had an idea for you.”
Immediately, the other girl’s expression became guarded. “And why would you be thinking about me so much?”
“I’ve felt bad for you, standing on the corners, selling flowers in all sorts of weather.”
Her chin lifted. “It’s a reputable job.”
“I meant no disrespect,” Rosalind said quickly. “I only wanted to tell you that there is an opening for a housemaid at Sloane House that I think you should apply for.”
Minerva’s expression hardened, then she blinked, as if the words had just registered. Then she narrowed her eyes and stared at Rosalind a little more closely. “And why do you think I’d have a chance?”
“Nanci, my roommate, had to leave in a hurry. Her leaving has left the whole household in a bit of disarray. Mrs. Abrams, the housekeeper, and Mrs. Sloane herself are eager to find a replacement as soon as possible. Actually, they’re so anxious that they are even willing to bypass going through a placement agency.” Smiling as encouragingly as possible, Rosalind added, “You can simply go to the servants’ entrance and speak to Mrs. Abrams today or tomorrow.”
“It can’t be that easy.”
“I’m certain it is. Well, it is if you are so inclined. If not, then no harm done.” She paused meaningfully, but mentally winced when she spied Minerva’s look of scorn. Too tired to argue her point, Rosalind turned away. Her current situation was hard enough without being subjected to barbs from Minerva too.
She’d taken three steps when Minerva’s voice rang out.
“Wait!”
Surprised, Rosalind turned. “Yes?”
“If I did go to Sloane House, what would I do? What would I say?” Though Rosalind thought she was trying to hide her real feelings, hope lit Minerva’s eyes. Awkwardly, she ran a self-conscious hand down the front of her dress. “And what about my clothes? I’m sure your Mrs. Abrams will see that my appearance has much to be desired.”
Rosalind looked at her critically. “I don’t think you need to worry too much about your dress. It’s clean, modest, and neatly mended. Besides, if you are hired, you’ll be given a uniform. All I would do is smooth back your hair neatly. And be prepared to answer a lot of questions about your experience.”
“I have a lot of that.”
She smiled encouragingly. “Then you should be fine.
Or at least you’ll have as good a chance as anyone.”
“Before you leave, tell me this. Why are you helping me? What do you get?”
“Nothing.” Much less than that, of course. If Minerva worked out, then of course Rosalind would be out of a job. But to her surprise, her own needs and security didn’t seem to be the only things that mattered anymore.
“Everyone wants something,” Minerva pushed.
“I guess I’ll get a feeling of satisfaction then. Even if I never find out anything about my sister, at least I would be able to help you. If you want to work in the Sloane House, that is.”
“Should I tell them you sent me?”
“No. I haven’t been a good housemaid, and that is putting it mildly. And now I had best get back.” She’d barely walked two steps when Minerva called out to her again.
“Rosalind?”
She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I do hope you will apply, Minerva. It will be a good thing, knowing that you will be a part of a big house again.”
She started walking again before she could say anything more.
When she got back into the house, Rosalind entered the kitchens and helped herself to a bowl of vegetable barley soup that Mrs. Russell had left simmering in a large crock on the stove. Other than a few nods, no one in the kitchen acknowledged her.
She was halfway done with her soup when a timid knock sounded at the door. Jerome answered. Right away, his usual cocky demeanor softened, giving Rosalind a hint that Minerva had wasted little time in taking advantage of Rosalind’s news.
He turned to Mrs. Russell. “Cook, is Mrs. Abrams interviewing for Nanci’s position already?”
“She is.” After wiping her hands on her stained apron, Cook walked to the back door.
As Rosalind finished her meal, she heard Cook’s somewhat skeptical voice change just like Jerome’s had. “Come on, dearie. And sit yourself down. Why don’t you have some soup while Jerome here goes to find Mrs. Abrams, our housekeeper?”
Not wanting to run the risk of ruining Minerva’s chances, Rosalind hurriedly washed her bowl and spoon and exited the kitchen. She passed Mrs. Abrams on the stairs. “Ma’am.”
“Press Miss Veronica’s dress for this evening,” the housekeeper said crisply. “It has been set out on her bed.”
Rosalind went to Veronica’s room, got the dress, and headed to the laundry to do as she was bid. Down the hall, in Mrs. Abrams’ private office, she could hear Mrs. Abrams and Cook chatting with Minerva. Their voices were kind, their questions easy and gentle. It seemed that they, too, had been just as struck by Minerva’s beauty and her noticeable nervousness.
Shortly afterward, the housekeeper located Rosalind. “Did you iron the gown?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s hanging in Miss Sloane’s wardrobe.”
“Good.” She cleared her throat. “I thought I might warn you that we have an applicant for the housemaid position. I think she might work out if Mrs. Sloane approves of her.”
“Ah.”
“She’s a different type of girl than most of us, but I must say she seems most suitable. She speaks well and is eager to work hard. She looks like she’s fallen on some hard times, but she has experience and overall she seems like she will fill the position superbly.”
Rosalind waited, wondering what Mrs. Abrams was going to say next.
“I would like you to show her to your rooms and then let her put on your extra uniform for the interview with Mrs. Sloane. Let her use your mirror and pins too.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rosalind wondered if the older lady had even considered how awkward it should have been for Rosalind to help prepare a woman to take her place. But perhaps she didn’t care.
When she entered the kitchens again, Rosalind found Minerva surrounded by various members of the staff. All were either plying her with food, offering her suggestions for the interview, or telling her about themselves.
“Minerva, I am Rosalind,” she said as formally as she could. She didn’t want anyone to suspect that she had anything to do with Minerva’s appearance in the house. “Mrs. Abrams thought I might be able to help you prepare for your interview with Mrs. Sloane.”
Minerva stood up with a rush, her chair scraping the tile floor. Wincing at the squeak, her cheeks colored. “I am so sorry,” she said to Cook.
“Don’t you fret, now. We’ve all been in your shoes. And don’t worry about your interview. Mrs. Sloane is always kind to applicants.”
“Don’t worry about her none either,” Jerome said with a dark look Rosalind’s way. “She won’t be with us much longer.”
Thankfully, Minerva said nothing at first as she followed Rosalind up the servants’ stairs. When they were about halfway up, however, Minerva spoke—perhaps oblivious to Jerome’s unkind remark about Rosalind from excitement at this new opportunity. “You never said how friendly the staff is. They feel like family, they do.”
“I didn’t think of it. Um, I guess I had assumed all staffs would be that way.”
“No, Rosalind,” she murmured. “Most of the time they’re not that way at all.”
CHAPTER 24
Those words echoed in Rosalind’s head when she was summoned to Mrs. Abrams’ sitting room at four o’clock and given an envelope with the last of her pay and a letter of reference. Though it seemed the housekeeper didn’t have the heart to send her out without a letter of reference, Rosalind’s cursory glance showed that it was barely adequate. Never again would she be hired in a grand house.
Feeling chilled, Rosalind folded the letter and counted the money. “Thank you. I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”
“No, Miss Pettit. You will leave right now. Your time at Sloane House has come to its end.”
While Rosalind stared at her incredulously, the housekeeper became even more businesslike. “I know the hour is getting late, but that can’t be helped. Time stands still for no man.”
Stunned and more than a little hurt that Mrs. Abrams was not even going to wait to see if Minerva did indeed “acclimate,” Rosalind hurried to her room, changed out of her uniform, and threw what belongings she had into her carpetbag. As she hoisted it over one crooked arm, Rosalind realized she was leaving with quite a bit more than she came with. More importantly, she was leaving with a greater understanding of life and expectations and human nature.
As luck would have it, she passed Douglass Sloane as she left the house, and she set down her bag for just a moment to talk with him.
“I guess things didn’t work out here after all. A shame.”
Yet again his words were infused with multiple meanings. Now, though, she was able to reply with a bit of intelligence. “No, sir, it didn’t. But everything wasn’t a total loss. I learned a lot.”
“Anything of use?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. I learned a lot of information that will one day come in handy. And I realize a few important truths.”
“Such as?”
“Well, I’ve learned to depend on myself. I’ve learned it is foolish to depend on anyone or anything.”
He blinked. “Now that is harsh.”
“I agree, sir. It has been very harsh. And more than a bit painful too. But I will survive. We all do.”
“Some don’t,” he said softly. “Some don’t survive at all.”
She met his gaze and felt chilled all over again. Indeed, she had learned that too. Some in their midst didn’t survive.
She picked up her carpetbag one more time, opened the door, and stepped out into waning sunlight. Wondering what would happen to her.
And a dark part of her wondered if it even mattered. She’d failed utterly in her goals. But most of all, she’d failed her sister.
“You have been avoiding me, Reid,” Veronica Sloane said minutes after the fish course had been served in the glittering dining room where their group had gathered for yet another dinner party and ball at yet another fin
e house. “Do you have a reason?”
He had many, some that he could verbalize. Others represented only a myriad of mixed-up emotions he felt unable to share. Instead, it was more of a feeling that he was on the verge of making a complete change in his life, and a relationship with her—as he had decided the day he’d found Veronica in the Sloane House hallway shadows—would only complicate things, even if he wanted such a relationship. Was she really going to pretend no understanding had passed between them that day?
With care, he pulled apart his dinner roll and spread a small portion of butter on it. “We’ve all been busy, Miss Sloane,” he murmured. “You most of all.”
She smiled. “Listen to you! Those manners! Why, you almost sound charming.”
He raised a brow as he popped the bread in his mouth.
Still ignoring her plate, she leaned a little closer. “Did you find that difficult?”
“Not at all,” he replied lightly. He speared a thin portion of the sole and bit into it gratefully, thankful to have a reason to stop speaking with her. The fish had been poached in butter and lemon and practically melted in his mouth. He wished he had been able to savor it.
Impatiently, Veronica signaled that she was finished with the course. After a moment’s pause, a servant briskly pulled the untouched dish from the table.
When her spot was cleared, she visibly relaxed. “My brother and I have a bet,” she murmured. “We’re wondering who you are avoiding. Is it me? Or is it Douglass? Or is it someone else in our home entirely?”
Reid decided to play along, not wishing to cause a scene. “I have no idea what you mean. As I said, I have been much occupied with other pressing engagements.”
“No, you did not say that,” she replied, her voice chilled. “You said nothing about engagements. Who has captured your attention?”
He didn’t want to be difficult, but he also didn’t want to have this conversation with her, especially not within the hearing of other people at the table. “Forgive me, but I am finding this conversation tedious,” he said, a bit more loudly than was proper, risking causing a scene after all.
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