Secrets of Sloane House

by Gray, Shelley

  Seconds later, Rosalind’s eyes fluttered open. She coughed a bit, then studied her surroundings. She looked at him, at his mother, at the floor on which she was reclining, in confusion. And then it was obvious that reality consumed her again. A weary look transformed her expression.

  And broke his heart. “I’m so sorry,” he said again. It was inadequate, but at least it encompassed everything he was feeling.

  She blinked and lifted one shoulder, conveying so much.

  “I’ll tend to her, dear,” his mother said.

  Reid rose to his feet and walked to Mr. Sloane.

  The man looked like he’d aged ten years, and as if he, too, were in danger of passing out. Reid wouldn’t have blamed him in the slightest. The latest revelations had gone far beyond his wildest imaginations.

  Reid cleared his throat and did what he needed to do. What he hoped his father would have done if he could have been there himself.

  “Sir, we need to contact the police,” he said baldly.

  Mr. Sloane nodded. “Yes. I’ll send a footman to the nearest precinct.” Looking beyond Reid, the man motioned toward Hodgeson, who looked as if he, too, was trying to stay steady on his feet. “Send Jerome to the police.”

  Hodgeson nodded. “What would you like him to say?”

  Mr. Sloane’s expression was so dark, Reid almost smiled. But of course, he understood the butler’s question. Nothing—especially not information like this—left the house without the Sloanes’ approval.

  Mr. Sloane glanced at Veronica and Douglass, who were sitting separately, each some distance away from the other and from their parents. They looked as shaken as the rest of them.

  “Ask Jerome to say that we are experiencing a matter of some urgency. If someone asks for more details, Jerome should admit that he is not at liberty to say.” His lips pressed together. “That should get them here in a hurry.”

  The butler bowed slightly. “Very well, sir.” When he reached the doorway, he paused. “Would . . . would you like a tea tray to be delivered, perhaps?”

  “The last thing we need is tea, Hodgeson.”

  “Yes, sir. But . . . perhaps for the ladies?”

  “Bring it. Or don’t. I don’t care.” He stood up, glanced at his children, glanced at his wife, who was as white as a sheet, and then turned to Rosalind, who was now standing next to one of the windows with Reid’s mother.

  Minutes passed like hours. A maid brought in the tea tray. She set it on a side table and walked out without a single person in the room acknowledging her service.

  Then the most curious expression fell over Mr. Sloane’s features. “How did this happen, Reid?” he asked quietly.

  Reid wasn’t sure if the man expected an answer or not. But he felt foolish not answering him. “I don’t know, sir. Perhaps one thing leads to another?”

  “But how did this happen to my family?” He shook his head. “Douglass was always so willful. Impetuous. But I never imagined he was preying on innocent women. But my wife? I fear she must have gone mad.”

  Still looking weary, he sat down next to Mrs. Sloane.

  She raised her chin. “What should we tell them?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  “To whom are you referring?”

  “The police, of course. We must have a story to tell them about what happened to that maid.” She paused and looked curiously at Rosalind before sitting up a bit straighter. “Would it help if we said she was a thief? I’m sure they would believe that.”

  Behind him, Reid heard Rosalind cry out, and his mother comforting her.

  Everything inside of him ached to yell at the woman, to shake her by the shoulders. To do everything in his power to convince her that no longer could the Sloanes simply hide behind a name. But he held his silence, hoping, praying that Mr. Sloane, at least, understood that the time to worry about appearances was long gone.

  “We are going to tell them the truth,” Mr. Sloane said finally. “That is all that can be said. That is all that can be done.”

  Veronica gasped. “But, Father, they could put Mother in jail.”

  Douglass laughed low. “They could do worse than that, Veronica. And most likely they will.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” their father said.

  Fear and panic had mottled Veronica’s face. Reid feared she was about to slip into a rage, but then the door opened. “The police have arrived, sir,” Hodgeson announced. Just as if he was announcing a visit from Mayor Carter Harrison himself.

  Two policemen walked through the door, one in street clothes, the other in a blue uniform. “Hello, sir. My name is Detective Lt. Sean Ryan. This here is Officer Carter.”

  Mr. Sloane nodded. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  The detective eyed all of them in the room with a sharp eye. “We heard there was an emergency here? What seems to be the problem?”

  The other policeman looked a little dumbstruck by the grandeur of his surroundings.

  With a weary hand, Mr. Sloane gestured to two empty chairs. “Detective Ryan, Officer Carter, you two might as well take a seat.” He gestured to Rosalind and to Reid’s mother, to Veronica and to Reid. “You all had better take a seat as well. I have a feeling this is going to take awhile.”

  When Officer Carter pulled out a pencil and pad of paper and Detective Ryan leaned forward, Clayton Sloane began.

  Beside them, the overflowing tea service lay gleaming on the sideboard, stacks of Haviland china beside it. All of it unnoticed or ignored.

  CHAPTER 35

  The police had questioned all of them. Then, once they were clear about the severity of the situation, more officers were called upon to take statements.

  Only after Rosalind had given her statement to both the officer and a detective dressed in a brown tweed suit was she allowed to leave Sloane House. However, she’d been given a stern warning not to leave Chicago anytime soon.

  At least three hours after they had arrived, the three of them left. Reid walked in between Rosalind and his mother, offering an arm to each.

  Rosalind accepted his help, though she felt conspicuous walking by his side.

  For once, not even his mother could think of anything to say. Each of them seemed lost in their thoughts as they slowly walked the five blocks back to the Armstrong residence.

  Just as they arrived, Mr. Watterson greeted them at the door with an anguished expression.

  “It’s Mr. Armstrong, ma’am,” he said to Reid’s mother, apology in his tone. “I’m afraid he’s taken a turn for the worse.”

  Rosalind watched Mrs. Sloan’s eyes widen with a strike of pure shock, then she slowly composed herself. “How bad is he?”

  “We’ve sent for the doctor.”

  Reid turned to her. “Rosalind, I am sorry to leave you—”

  “Please. Go.” She waved her hands and put on a brave smile. Seconds later, both Reid and his mother were up the stairs and out of sight.

  She sighed. Could this day be any worse?

  “Are you all right, miss?” Erin, the maid who had been attending her, asked.

  Rosalind shook her head. She didn’t really know Erin. She didn’t know any of the servants here at the Armstrong house. But they knew the truth about her, that she’d been dismissed from the Sloane mansion and was only living here out of the Armstrongs’ charity.

  But she saw no reason to lie or prevaricate. “We discovered this morning that my sister, Miranda, was murdered. All this time I’ve been hoping and praying that I would find her, you see. That I would be able to take her home. Back to Wisconsin. But . . . that is not going to be possible. She’s dead.”

  Erin’s eyes flashed. “I’m very sorry. May I bring you something?”

  “Thank you, but no.” If she knew anything now, it was just how busy the staff was in a big house like this. She certainly didn’t want to create more work or cause confusion. So even though she didn’t want to be alone, she also knew that her room was the best place for her to
be. It was out of sight and out of everyone’s way.

  “I’ll be in my room if the family needs me.”

  “W–would you care to come sit in the kitchen? Most everyone’s having some tea in the servants’ hall. Not much to do while we’re waiting.”

  Being in their company sounded much better than waiting for news in the silence of her guest room. “You wouldn’t mind? You don’t think Cook would mind?”

  Her face warmed a bit. “I have a feeling you might be pleasantly surprised about the many differences between here and the Sloane mansion.” She turned and started walking. “Follow me.”

  Rosalind did as she was bid.

  The room was dark with the thick velvet curtains tightly shut. The air was still and thick with emotion as Reid, his mother, and the doctor all watched his father continue to labor through each breath.

  His father seemed to have drifted from their presence for the most part. Only his mother’s clinging seemed to prevent him from ascending into heaven. It was a painful thing to see. And, Reid realized, brought back painful memories of sitting by his brother’s side.

  After taking his father’s pulse, Dr. Nolan readjusted his glasses on his nose as he straightened. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, “but there is really nothing more we can do.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes as she nodded. “I understand.” Turning from them both, she leaned close to her husband, took hold of his hand, and brought his knuckles to her lips.

  Reid felt like his heart was in a vise, the pain was that overwhelming. And he wished Beth were here. She’d be so devastated that she wasn’t. With effort, he pushed it away and headed to the door. “I’ll walk you out, Doctor,” Reid murmured. When they were at the stairs, Reid asked the question he was most dreading. “How long, do you think?”

  The doctor pursed his lips. “A day? Perhaps two? I’ll stop by tomorrow morning. If something happens this evening, don’t hesitate to send for me.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  After he left, Reid walked back to his father’s room, prepared to stand vigil with his mother for as long as was needed. But when he peeked in, he changed his mind. His mother was sitting on the bed next to his father and talking softly.

  Reid doubted his dad could hear or understand what she was saying. But whatever his mother was saying, it was obviously important to her. And private.

  He backed away, deciding to check on Rosalind instead. When he didn’t find her in her room, he strode downstairs and peeked in the parlor and the drawing room.

  Unfortunately, he saw only Erin. “Have you seen Rosalind, by chance?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s having tea in the servants’ hall.”

  He was surprised, but not shocked. “I’m glad she’s not sitting by herself.” Suddenly, he was wishing he wasn’t either. But a man certainly couldn’t beg for company. It was his duty to stand firm and strong.

  “Mr. Armstrong, do I understand that your father has taken a turn?” Erin asked hesitantly.

  Reid didn’t fault her asking. He knew how much the servants cared about his father, and how worried and concerned they must be feeling too. “He has.” Swallowing hard, he added, “The doctor says he won’t have much longer. Maybe a day or two at the most.”

  “Do you need anything? Maybe some lunch?”

  He was a little hungry. But just as importantly, he hoped the meal might help steady his nerves. “Bless you, Erin. Thank you.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll let the staff know.” After a beat, she said, “I’ll ask Miss Rosalind to let you know when the dining room is ready.”

  He couldn’t bear to sit in that room by himself. “Not there. Just a tray in my office. I mean, my father’s office.”

  Her bottom lip trembled. “Yes, sir.”

  He wandered into his father’s office in a daze, reflecting as he did that the day couldn’t have been a more difficult one. Ignoring the desk, he sat in his father’s favorite chair in front of the fireplace, perching his feet on a stool.

  And realized that there was very little chance of his father ever taking his place here again. More to the point, there hadn’t been a chance for some time. He’d only been holding out hope. Praying for a miracle.

  “But you don’t grant dreams and wishes, do you, Lord?” he asked the empty room. And for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t expect an answer.

  That made him feel even less whole. All his life, he’d hugged his faith close to his heart, clung to it with the zest of a temperance worker. Oh, he’d made sure to give thanks to God every night. And he did have many, many reasons to feel blessed and grateful. But now, he wondered, what had he been praising the Lord for? Things that didn’t matter?

  When had he really given thanks for having parents like his own? For the simple fact that they loved each other? That they had never acted like he and Beth weren’t poor substitutes for Calvin?

  Now he and Beth and his mother would become an awkward trio.

  For a moment, he realized that he still had not done the one thing his dad had wanted him to do so badly—marry well.

  Of course, he wasn’t married at all. And the woman he was currently thinking about was far from a lady of means. He paused, waiting to feel guilt. Instead, all he felt was a curious sense of righteousness.

  Thinking about Douglass and Olympia Sloane’s staggering revelations, he realized that he was still in a state of shock. He’d never truly realized that Douglass felt no shame or remorse for his actions.

  And Reid had never guessed that a woman as regal as Mrs. Sloane could murder—and then expect everyone to lie to protect her. She was such an elegant lady, and she hailed from one of the finest families in the nation.

  But did it really matter? And what was “fine,” anyway? Surely not men and women like that.

  “Knock, knock,” Rosalind said as she entered with a tray laden with a sandwich, cookies, and what looked to be a bowl of soup. “I hope you’re hungry, Reid. Your cook outdid herself.”

  “I am hungry. Starved.” He jumped to his feet. “But I didn’t imagine the staff would ask you to bring me my tray.”

  “I asked to. Erin was going to bring it, but she needed a little break. Besides, I told you, I’ve gotten pretty good at carrying trays by now.”

  Only she could make his mood lift at a time like this. “So I see.”

  After she set down the tray on a table near the fire, she glanced at him with a bit of trepidation in her eyes. “Do you mind if I sit in here with you while you eat? Your staff is very kind, but they have things to do and I was only getting in their way.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” Today she was wearing a plain brown dress. It should have washed out her color, made her look mousy. But instead, the plain clothes only accentuated her natural beauty.

  And reminded him of how he was tempted to simply stare at her. Gesturing at one of the empty chairs opposite where he was sitting, he added, “Actually, I can’t think of anything better than having you keep me company.”

  After she sat, he took the chair next to hers. With a tug and a pull, he shifted it so they almost faced each other, next to the table with the tray. Now little separated them except for his flaws and her hesitancy.

  Next, he closed his eyes, gave a quick blessing, then at last dug into his meal. “So how was sitting with the staff in the kitchen?” he asked after he’d consumed a few spoonfuls of his cream of broccoli soup.

  “I liked it very much. Your maid, Erin, promised me the staff here was different, and she was right.”

  That interested him. “Different how?”

  “Different, happy. Less stressed.”

  He had to smile at that. “It’s probably because we don’t know how to act properly for the servants.”

  “No, it’s probably because you all are nicer to them. I also heard that your mother doesn’t like to entertain all that much.”

  “No. Well, not grand parties.”

  “That’s something your staff is grateful for
. Preparing for a grand dinner can be an exhausting business.”

  “So I’ve been told.” He tucked into his sandwich, thinking about the differences in staff. Thinking about how comfortable he felt just being around Rosalind.

  She seemed to be feeling contented too.

  He hated to ruin their few moments of peace, but he knew something had to be said. “Rosalind, I truly am sorry about your sister. But perhaps one day you might find comfort by knowing that justice will be served.”

  “Perhaps.” Her bottom lip trembled, but she held her composure. “I am upset, but not shocked. I think I knew in my heart that she wasn’t alive and she was probably a victim of foul play. I told your father as much.”

  Unable to stop himself, he reached out and rested his palm on her back. When he felt her muscles loosen, he gently rubbed the line of tension between her shoulder blades. “If it’s any consolation, one day you will know that the truth was only discovered because of you,” he murmured.

  “Perhaps one day I will be glad I discovered what really happened to her.” She rested against his hand for a moment before straightening abruptly. “I’m wondering if my parents are ever going to be pleased about my discovering the truth, having to accept that Miranda is dead.”

  “But that’s why they sent you here,” he pointed out. “You cannot help that the truth wasn’t what they hoped to hear.”

  “They sent me here with grand dreams. For some reason, my parents imagined that I would be able to single-handedly find Miranda, wrestle her from whatever situation she was in, and bring her straight home.” Clenching her hands into fists, she whispered, “For a time, I actually thought that was possible. Now I realize it was all a pipe dream.” She stood up, turned away to gaze out the window.

  It would be so easy to stay where he was. To remind himself that nothing was between them. Not really. Instead, he crossed the room and curved his hands around her slim shoulders. Hoping to remind her that she wasn’t alone. “You tried your best. And what you did accomplish was noteworthy. Your family will be proud of you.”

  She didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge his touch. “I doubt that. When I return and tell them everything, all we’ll have left is our reality. All their hopes will be shattered.”