Secrets of Sloane House

by Gray, Shelley

  For once the air wasn’t too hot or too humid, and the promise of fall was, perhaps, in the air. The winds their city was known for weren’t gusting and kicking up dust and debris from the road. The air even smelled sweeter than it usually did.

  Yes, all in all, it was a beautiful day. Beautiful in looks and in feel. It was a beautiful day to make a difference in someone’s life.

  With that thought in mind, he stepped down his front steps, turned right, and started walking to the church. He’d start there. If she didn’t show, then he’d start exploring other places and other options.

  All he could do was take one step at a time.

  CHAPTER 26

  Rosalind had been sitting in the same church pew she’d sat in before for an hour. For most of the time, she’d been completely alone. She’d passed the time by listening for footsteps and berating herself for not doing more to keep her job at Sloane House, telling herself she was ten times the fool.

  Just like when she’d boarded that train in Milwaukee, determined to locate Miranda and bring her home safely, she’d been hopelessly naive.

  Why had she cared whether Minerva had a bed to sleep in or not? Furthermore, why had she thought that she would have a chance of meeting Reid—or even anyone who knew him—at this time, on this day? The choir practice she’d stumbled upon had been later in the day, on another day of the week. She didn’t even know how often they practiced.

  She should have come up with a better solution. More importantly, she should have prepared better. She should have asked him where his home was, about his job. Asked him something of importance so if she did need him, she would be able to find him.

  And, well, while she was at it, she certainly should have gone to the police station herself and asked about her sister, even though they had rebuffed her father. If they had no answers for her? She could have returned again and again until they took her seriously.

  Instead, she’d taken the investigation into her own hands, even though she didn’t know the city or the first thing about locating a missing person. Yes, she’d been ten times the fool.

  After sitting for that hour, she was already coming to the conclusion that the only things she did have any more were hope and her faith. She started praying then. Her words were rusty at first, but little by little they began to meld together.

  Asking the Lord to join her felt, finally, like the right thing to do—as if at long last she was doing something right. Every time she began to doubt and worry, Rosalind did her best to breathe deeply and let the scent of incense, lemon oil, and aged wood fill her soul. Each time, the cool air, mixed with the comforting scent and a sense of faith, soothed her.

  Once soothed, she continued to pray for Reid and for her family and Miranda and miracles. Though she didn’t always like to ask the Lord for help for herself, she asked him for strength and knowledge. For bravery and, finally, for peace.

  She truly did need peace. Ever since she’d realized Miranda had gone missing, she’d lost a little bit of herself. At first, she grieved and worried. Felt a huge sense of loss. Then, after arriving in Chicago and taking the job at Sloane House, she’d begun to not only doubt herself but doubt others around her. Those negative feelings had slowly but surely chipped at her insides. Little by little, she’d stopped imagining the best in others and begun to treat everyone with suspicion.

  Then, as she prayed, she slowly began to doubt even her own motives, fearing that she wasn’t only looking for Miranda, but, in a strange, awful way, letting her worries transform her into something and someone she didn’t even recognize.

  It was time to move on. So she asked God to help her come to terms with her situation. If she was destined to mourn for her sister, then she needed to accept that and move on.

  And then a funny thing happened. Her clenched hands eased. Her stiff shoulders relaxed. Gradually, her breathing slowed and evened. That was when she was almost sure that she heard the Lord speaking back to her.

  She breathed deeply again and reminded herself that he’d been with her this whole time. It was time to stop doubting and to start listening. And he was telling her to remain where she was.

  Because she didn’t know what else to do, because she had nowhere else to go, she elected to listen. To be obedient.

  Finally she was doing something right. Her body relaxed. Her mind eased. And in spite of everything that was so wrong, she fell asleep.

  “Miss?”

  Rosalind started and rushed to sit up.

  A heavyset man in a pew two rows away turned around. His gaze was serious and sad. “Forgive me, but you were here the other day, weren’t you?” he asked. “When we had the choir practice.”

  She stared at him, distrustful, then realized that he might be the answer to her prayers. She nodded.

  He looked pleased that his guess had been right. “You’re Mr. Armstrong’s friend, aren’t you?”

  She nodded again. “I came here today hoping to see Mr. Armstrong. Do you happen to know if he’ll be by here today?”

  He shook his head sadly. “Not to my knowledge. This isn’t a practice day. And Mr. Armstrong doesn’t make all the practices anyway. He’s a busy man, you see.”

  She was crestfallen. “I was afraid of that.”

  “Is there something I could help you with?”

  “Could you tell me his home address?”

  “You want his address, miss?”

  “I know it’s out of the ordinary, but I must find him as soon as possible. It’s terribly urgent.”

  He stared at her so long that she felt her stomach knot.

  However, she looked directly at him. She had nothing to lose, and he was her only hope. It no longer mattered what kind of woman this man imagined her to be—most likely loose or pushy. After all, what other kind of woman would be sitting in a church, hoping and praying for help from a man she barely knew?

  At last he came to a decision. “I suppose I could give you his address, though I do feel a bit odd about it.” He scratched his trimmed beard. “I’ve never passed on a gentleman’s address to a woman before.”

  “I’ve never asked for one before.” She didn’t add another word. Truthfully, there wasn’t anything else to say. She needed an ally.

  He stood up, pulled a fountain pen out of a pocket inside his jacket, then paused. Looking just beyond her, his face broke into a wide smile. “Well, would you look at that?” he murmured. “It looks like I was wrong.”

  “Pardon me?” She turned, then suddenly felt her heart flip over as a rush of emotions flooded her. “Reid.” She stood up.

  “Hello, Jackson,” Reid murmured before directing all his attention on her. He strode forward, his gaze never leaving her own. His expression looked to be a cross between profound relief and unexpected joy. “Rosalind. Thank God.”

  She stepped to the aisle and met him. When he held out his hands, she grasped his with a mixture of pure relief and bountiful joy.

  After squeezing her fingers lightly, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. “I’ve been so worried. So worried,” he murmured into her hair.

  With a sigh, he released her and smiled.

  Rosalind smiled too. Her prayers had been answered. The Lord had listened to her and had looked out for her, first by that Jackson man and now with the one person she’d been praying and hoping to see. Tears flooded her eyes and slowly fell down her cheeks. “Oh, Reid, I don’t think you’ll ever know how happy I am to see you.”

  He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her cheeks. Looking at her tenderly, he said, “Actually, I do think I know, because I feel the same way. I’ve been worried sick.”

  “You have?”

  “Last night Veronica told me you were let go. I questioned her, even stopped by the servants’ entrance this morning and asked if anyone knew where you went off to. But no one had any idea. Ever since then, I’ve been a wreck, imagining the worst, hoping and praying to find you.”

  “They wouldn’t have known. I had no
idea what I was going to do when I left the house.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better,” he murmured as he clasped her hands in his.

  She couldn’t help it—she laughed. Enjoying his smile. Enjoying his touch. His hands felt so warm, so reassuring. Safe. “Seeing you here? It feels like a dream.”

  “Indeed. The very best of dreams.” He squeezed her hands one more time before he dropped them. “Now, let’s get you out of here. Are you hungry? Do you need anything?”

  She felt so overwhelmed at the moment that she wasn’t sure what she needed. But then she remembered her manners. She turned to the man who had been sitting with her. “I’m sorry, sir. I mean, Mr. Jackson. I didn’t mean to completely—”

  But he was gone.

  “Reid, did you see where that man I was talking to went off to?”

  “That was Edward Jackson. He’s a shopkeeper who lives nearby.”

  “Well, he was about to help me. He was about to give me your address.”

  “Really? I didn’t think he knew it,” he mused.

  “I was so grateful that he stopped to talk to me. I prayed and prayed for help, then both of you men appeared.”

  “I asked my father for advice. After going over possibilities, I decided there was a good chance you might come here because this is the one place you know I frequent with any regularity. I also left word with everyone at home to be on the lookout for you.”

  “You did all that?”

  “I did. My father and I also gave strict instructions. If you showed up, everyone was supposed to ply you with hot tea and sandwiches until I came back.”

  She’d hoped and prayed he’d help her if she’d asked, but she had never imagined that he’d go to so much trouble. Not for a mere maid.

  “As I said, I’ve been concerned about you.” He held out his arm. “Now, come home with me. My parents are there and they want to help. Where are your things?”

  “I left my carpetbag with the landlady of a little inn.” She bit her lip. “I told her I’d be back for everything by five.”

  “I’ll send a footman to retrieve your bag. Until you leave Chicago, you will be staying with the Armstrong family.”

  She was too desperate to do anything but accept his offer. “Thank you. I’ll be more than happy to work for my room and board.”

  “Nonsense. You will be there as our guest, Rosalind.”

  “But, Reid, I am only a maid. You can’t have me stay at your house as a lady. What will your servants say?”

  “First of all, I don’t care. And second? It seems the Sloanes have quite a reputation for running off servants. I have a feeling my staff might congratulate you!”

  She couldn’t believe he was joking. “If I stay, I’ll gladly stay in an extra maid’s room.”

  “No arguing. We wouldn’t want this to happen any other way,” he proclaimed as they stepped out of the dark church into the light of day.

  Now that she wasn’t shrouded with worry, she looked around and was surprised and pleased to see that the day was bright with nary a cloud in the sky. “It’s a beautiful day,” she murmured.

  His lips curved upward. “Indeed, it is. The best of days.”

  Rosalind’s first impression of Reid Armstrong’s home was that it was much different than Sloane House. While Sloane House stood as imposing as a castle, its limestone bricks and multiple turrets, arches, and gables practically daring anyone to find a flaw, the Armstrongs’ home was built entirely of wood. It reminded her of a giant farm-house, nestled among a variety of trees and shrubs and rolling hills.

  It was a welcoming place.

  While it was true that it wasn’t all that grand-looking on the outside, inside, it was still impressive. Standing in the marbled tile entryway, she gazed at the mahogany banister and the trio of paintings decorating the wall to her right.

  She saw the finely carved furniture and the thick imported rugs. The gas chandelier above them glittered, the crystals capturing the light from the upstairs windows and sending a myriad of bright colors flashing along the walls. Though she was no expert on fine furnishings, even she knew that the Armstrongs’ interior could measure up to the Sloanes’ in almost every single way.

  Two servants were standing at the foot of the stairs, patiently waiting for instructions. After briefly meeting their gaze, she tucked her head down. There was no doubt in her mind that they would be sharing the news of her arrival with the rest of the staff. She could only imagine what they would say and what they were thinking about Reid’s friendship with her.

  “Erin and Benjamin, this is Rosalind, the woman I’m sure you have heard might be arriving. She’ll be staying with us for a time. Rosalind, Erin is our parlor maid. Benjamin is my valet.”

  To Rosalind’s amazement, both Erin and Benjamin greeted her with warm smiles. “We’re glad you’re here, Miss Rosalind,” Erin said. “May I show you to your room?”

  “Oh! Well, I . . .”

  “I think I had better take things over now,” announced a regal-looking woman who was walking toward them.

  “Rosalind, may I introduce my mother, Mrs. Armstrong? Mother, this is Miss Pettit. Rosalind.”

  “Rosalind, welcome. Erin, go ask Mrs. Young to prepare a tray for our guest and bring it right into the drawing room.” Erin curtsied and hurried off.

  “Rosalind,” Reid said, “we need to know where to retrieve your bag.”

  “My suitcase is at Mrs. Kingston’s establishment. It is located just a block south of the transit station.”

  All three of them—the valet, Reid, and Mrs. Armstrong—stared at her in dismay.

  “You stayed there last night?” Reid asked. “By yourself?”

  “It was safe enough.”

  “The area is dangerous.”

  She didn’t even try to pretend that she hadn’t been worried or afraid. “It was the best I could do,” she explained. “I was asked to leave Sloane House around four o’clock. One place was already full when I went there, and the next didn’t want a person like me staying there.”

  “A person like you?” Mrs. Armstrong said.

  Aware of Reid’s valet still standing close by, she murmured, “It is obvious that I am not a lady, ma’am. Apparently to some, I am not even respectable.”

  “Let us not think anymore about that place,” Mrs. Armstrong said briskly. “Benjamin, please go for the bag. You’d best take John with you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said before turning away.

  Looking at her like she was more fragile than the most elegant china, Reid took her arm and led her into the drawing room. “Now, it’s time for you to sit and relax. After you have something to eat and you freshen up, you can tell us all about your sister and what happened at the Sloanes’. All right?”

  It all sounded beyond agreeable. With a weary smile she nodded. “Yes, Mr. Armstrong. That sounds just fine.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Two hours later, after a much-appreciated opportunity to freshen up and after eating from a tray full of sandwiches and drinking two fortifying cups of hot tea, Rosalind told Reid and his mother everything she could.

  For the most part, they listened without interrupting. The only time they spoke was when one of them asked to clarify her story or to ask her for her feelings about Douglass or Veronica.

  At last, Mrs. Armstrong leaned back and shook her head in wonder. “My goodness, Rosalind. You have certainly had quite an adventure.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I want you to rest for a day or so and let the rest of us do a bit of investigating.”

  “Oh no, ma’am. I’m afraid I couldn’t do that.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Though Reid, I mean, Mr. Armstrong, invited me to be a guest here, I couldn’t stay out of charity. I’d really like to earn my keep.”

  “It’s a big home, dear. There is plenty of room for you.”

  “No—”

  “It would be a great service to us all if you cou
ld sit with my father, who is ill,” Reid interjected smoothly. “Could you do that? He doesn’t care for his nurse.” His voice warmed. “If you could sit with him, help him get his meals, perhaps play cards or read to him from time to time? That would help us all immensely.”

  “Of course I would be happy to do that. But I could also work in the kitchens or help—”

  “Definitely not,” Mrs. Armstrong interjected. “My staff won’t know what to think about you being down in the kitchens. In addition, I have a full staff at the moment. All the chores and duties are being covered.”

  Rosalind knew what Mrs. Armstrong said was true. As much as she ached to not be a burden, she also was now very aware of how a big household was run. Catering to her need to feel useful would not help anyone but her. It would actually disturb the well-run balance that already existed. “I understand.”

  “Good.” She rose to her feet. “Now, let’s get you settled in your room. I want you to rest for a bit now, and then Reid will take you to his father’s room and introduce you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Reid stood up as well. “I’m very glad you are here, Rosalind. I’ll knock on your door in an hour.”

  “Yes, Mr. Armstrong.” She ached to thank him again. Ached to call him Reid, ached to step into his arms like she did at the church. But this was neither the right place nor the right time. Instead, after sharing a long look with him, they parted, he darting off to a room down the hall, she following his mother up the stairs.

  The staircase was winding. At the top of the stairs, the hallway broke into thirds. To Rosalind’s pleasure, she noticed each wing was painted a slightly varying shade of gray. The wing Mrs. Armstrong guided her down was faintly blue in tint. Small prints of botanicals dotted the narrow hallway. The effect was soothing.

  Her room was at the end of the hall. It was small but well appointed. Though it wasn’t nearly as grand as Veronica Sloane’s, it was a far cry from the small room at the top of the Sloane mansion where she’d stayed with Nanci.

  “I hope you will find this comfortable, dear,” Mrs. Armstrong said.