“But you will have the truth. That is something.”
“Yes, though it’s sometimes easier to live with denial.”
Thinking about his dreams of making his parents proud by marrying a woman of elevated circumstances, about his decision to continually ignore his qualms about Douglass’s behavior out of a misguided feeling of obligation, made him nod. “I suppose that is true.”
He’d put up so many boundaries where the two of them were concerned. He’d pretended her social station mattered, though his wasn’t all that exceptional.
He’d pretended they were too different, because he’d had so many opportunities in his life while she’d had far too few.
And he’d tried to refute his attraction to her by imagining that her looks weren’t as polished as any young debutante’s. Or that he shouldn’t be noticing that a young maid in a misshapen uniform could stir him as much as an expensively clothed girl in silk.
Hmm. It turned out that he, too, hadn’t been all that ready to accept the truth.
He knew he had two choices now. He could concentrate on the truth and a future he wanted, or he could continue to pretend to want things that would never be.
Put that way? He had only one choice.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he whispered into the nape of her neck.
She swayed a bit, leaning into his touch. Or maybe it was his words? “I can’t leave, remember? I promised the police I wouldn’t leave the city until they said I could.”
Had she misunderstood him? Or was she merely choosing to pretend she did?
He parted his lips, ready to explain himself, ready to at last kiss her neck, to pull her closer . . . when a burst of insight helped him see things more clearly.
He needed to go slowly.
She’d just been told her sister had been murdered. His own father was upstairs dying. Perhaps now was not the best time to declare his feelings.
But—just perhaps—he could hint at things a bit?
He ran his fingertips down her arms.
“Rosalind, if you weren’t here, I would miss you.”
She trembled under his touch, but she did not turn to face him. “I can’t imagine why. I’ve brought you nothing but trouble.”
“That isn’t true. You’ve brought me something very special.”
“And what was that?”
“A new belief in myself. Hope for the future. If you go, I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t want you to go.” He swallowed, then made himself think of her needs. “Unless . . . unless you want to leave me.”
After the span of a heartbeat, she sighed. “I would miss you too. I hate to admit it out loud, Reid. But I would miss you too.”
He could no longer resist the temptation. He brushed his lips against the nape of her neck. Leaned closer, kissed her jawline. She sighed.
“You know what?” she said. “God is so very good, don’t you think? Here, even in the darkest hours, he gives us light. Here, my sister was murdered and your father is dying. I’m out of a job, and you have lost someone you once thought to be a good friend. Even in times like this, we’ve found each other. He reminds us that we cannot completely give in to despair.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, liking the way she felt against him. Liking the feel of her in his arms. “You are right, Rosalind,” he murmured. “God is, indeed, so very good.”
She was right. For a few scant moments this day, he’d been doubtful and depressed. Sad and despondent. He’d let himself forget so many things.
But then God had brought Rosalind into his life, into this room. And in doing so, the Lord had reminded Reid just how much he had to be grateful for.
And he was, indeed, so grateful.
CHAPTER 36
By noon the following day, the Armstrong household had already welcomed four callers. Dr. Nolan arrived to sit vigil, saying that it was only hours—or even minutes—now until his father passed into heaven.
Next, Eloisa came and refused to leave, admitting that she’d rather help in any way she could instead of sit alone with her thoughts at her own house. When Reid said that her presence eased them all, she picked up his mother’s embroidery basket, scooped out a rat’s nest of jumbled floss, and asked if she could sit with Rosalind while she untangled the strands.
Reid summoned Rosalind right away.
After a few minutes of shyness, Rosalind accepted Eloisa’s offer of friendship with alacrity. She knew the young lady had been through a lot. She also knew she was a lady through and through and was so happy that a woman like Eloisa wanted to get to know her better.
A little over an hour later, Detective Ryan and Officer Carter called. After handing Watterson a card, they requested a private audience with Rosalind Pettit, who was now going by her real name, Rosalind Perry. Reid attempted to intervene and join her, but the police were firm, Detective Ryan even going so far as to say that they were already doing Rosalind a favor by conducting the interview at the Armstrongs’ home instead of at the police station.
Though Reid had looked like he had quite a bit to say about that comment, he held his tongue and only indicated that he would be waiting in the drawing room at the end of the interview.
After sharing a look with Eloisa, Rosalind followed the policemen into Mrs. Armstrong’s private sitting room, where she answered many of the same questions once again.
The detective looked perturbed when she told them how her father’s visit to their headquarters had been handled. But still the questions and statements continued.
Though their questioning was difficult, Rosalind actually didn’t mind it all that much. She’d felt as if she had been on a wild-goose chase by herself—at least until Reid stepped in. She’d had no resources, little knowledge of the city, and no true knowledge of Miranda’s life in Chicago. All she’d really had was a strong sense that something had happened to her sister and enough stubbornness to attempt to see her search to the end.
They eventually confided that Mrs. Sloane had been sent to a private mental hospital. No charges had been made against Douglass, on the other hand, because no woman had ever come forward. For a split second, Rosalind wondered if Eloisa would be willing to stand up against him, but she quickly pushed that idea to one side. She was worldly enough now to realize that Eloisa’s testifying would do little good. Douglass would dispute her and she would lose a little bit more of herself.
It was obvious that the Sloane family was extremely influential, perhaps even with members of the police. They also had an army of lawyers at their disposal.
Detective Ryan did promise that a number of officers would once again look for Miranda’s body, which Rosalind supposed would be a blessing. She knew she and her family would like to give Miranda a Christian burial.
However, she didn’t hold out much hope. Months had now passed. The police detective had described a variety of things that could have happened to her sister’s body, each one more upsetting than the last. Rosalind began to think that perhaps it would be best—for her parents at least—to always remember Miranda as she had been when she left their farm. Determined and beautiful. Headstrong and optimistic. Full of life.
Two hours later, the interview was over. After giving them her address in Wisconsin, she was told she could leave Chicago.
“We are sorry about your sister, miss,” the detective said as he shook her hand good-bye.
When she was alone, she sat back down on the settee. Her mind felt numb. At last, her adventure was over. The tears started to fall. Whether from grief for her sister or relief that she’d at last discovered the truth, she wasn’t sure.
Maybe she was even sad to be leaving Chicago and all the people she’d met and gotten to know. As frightening and emotional as her time here had been, she knew she was going to miss her new friends. She was going to miss her life here.
Two hours after that, Mr. Armstrong went to heaven.
As black bunting was draped over the windows and the house settled into mournin
g, Rosalind made a decision. She was going to stay a little bit longer. After visiting with the housekeeper and the cook, she slipped on a clean white apron and began to help out as much as she could. It was the least she could do for the Armstrong family, the very least she could do for Reid.
And, she realized, exactly what she did need at the moment. She needed to do something for someone else. There would be plenty of time to go home and return to her old way of life. Just not yet.
She simply wasn’t ready.
Two weeks later
Her old carpetbag and a new one were packed. She was ready to go.
Sitting on the steps in the foyer, Rosalind waited for Reid and his mother to come downstairs. Mrs. Armstrong wanted to give her a final good-bye, then Reid was going to take her to the train station in his carriage.
He’d insisted on paying for her train ticket home.
“Oh, good, miss. You’re still here,” Cook proclaimed as she trundled forward, carrying a metal pail covered in floral linens in her hands. “All of us downstairs have been wantin’ to give you this.”
Rosalind took it and peeked inside. In the pail was an assortment of sandwiches and cookies, an apple, and a little note too. “This all looks wonderful. Thank you so much.”
“It was the least we could do for you.” Cook shook her head. “I’ve never met a girl like you. You stepped right in and helped everyone in the house. We’ll be sad to see you go.”
Only by sheer force of will could she keep her bottom lip from trembling. “Thank you.” Fingering the note, she said, “Shall I read it now?”
“Definitely not! You’ll make us all blush. Read it when the train leaves the station. It will give you something to do.”
“I’ll do that, then. Thank you again.”
Cook leaned forward. “Just between you and me? We were all hoping that you would be able to stay. You’ve been a real ray of sunshine, you have.”
“You all were so welcoming that you made my time here quite pleasant. But this household is so well run, there’s no opening for me, I’m afraid.”
Cook looked at her in surprise. “None of the staff was thinking about you working here. We were hoping that something would have happened between you and young Mr. Armstrong.”
“Of course nothing could have happened,” she said, a bit shocked. “I’m only a maid.”
“Miss Rosalind, let me tell you a secret. You’re a right help, you are. But you aren’t all that good of a maid or kitchen helper. You’d probably make a better wife for him.”
Rosalind was so shocked, she laughed. “Don’t tell Mr. Armstrong that!”
“Too late, I’m afraid. I overheard,” he said from the doorway of his office off the foyer.
This time, both she and Cook turned beet red.
“I didn’t know you were standing there, sir,” Cook retorted.
“I hope not. I’d hate to think my staff had decided to start telling me what to do with my life to my face.”
Cook pulled back her shoulders. “Never that, sir.”
With a wink, he held out his arm. “Rosalind, are you ready to go? My mother said to tell you that she’ll write to you. She’s something of a watering pot right now. She didn’t want to cry all over your new dress.”
This time, Rosalind wasn’t sure if Reid was joking. At his urging, his mother had sent her shopping with Eloisa two days ago. Though Rosalind protested, Mrs. Armstrong paid for two ready-made dresses, a lovely felt bonnet, a new pair of kid gloves, and a beautiful pair of black boots. She’d enjoyed spending time with Eloisa, and now she was dressed in a fashionable blue gown that fit her almost perfectly. On her head was her new bonnet. Its brim framed her eyes just right, and the ribbons that decorated the brim made her feel feminine and pretty.
“Every woman needs a new dress now and then, dear,” Mrs. Armstrong had remarked when Rosalind tried to protest that it was too much.
Just as importantly, she couldn’t deny that she felt pretty and, for once, attractive. She looked like a young lady, not someone’s servant. And after a lifetime of living in Miranda’s hand-me-downs, followed by these months of working as a housemaid, Rosalind felt a real need to be seen as herself.
Now, looking at Reid, seeing his appreciative gaze, she felt herself blush. “I wouldn’t have minded if your mother dampened my dress. I will miss her.”
“I’ll let her know you said that.” Escorting her out the door, he lifted her into the carriage and away from the best home she’d ever had.
CHAPTER 37
To her surprise, they took his family’s big carriage, not the smaller one he usually used. He sat in the seat next to her while Charley drove them.
Never before had they been alone in the enclosed space. She was aware of everything, the way the ends of his brown hair curled at the edges, the way her sapphire-blue dress brushed against his suit.
Even his scent drew her notice. He smelled of soap and pine and horses, as if he’d gone to their carriage house for a bit before greeting her.
Closing her eyes briefly, she hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t forget a second of their last few minutes together. She knew she’d hold these memories tight to her heart for the rest of her life.
He seemed to notice her expression. “Everything all right?”
“Oh. Yes.” There was no reason to lie. “I was simply trying to make this moment last. It’s a good memory.”
His gaze drifted over her face, as if he, too, was hoping to imprint each last second they had together in his brain. “Because you’re finally returning to your family?”
Did she dare tell him that it was much more than that? “Partly,” she allowed.
There was traffic on the street. Through the windows, which were cracked open, they heard Charley yell at a pair of boys running through the street and greet the driver of a lumbering milk wagon. The carriage lurched, then darted forward in a rush.
Rosalind gripped the seat and laughed. What used to feel so foreign and scary now felt almost exciting.
Reid winked. “Before you know it, all the sights and sounds of Chicago will be a distant memory.”
That was what she was afraid of. “I hope not a memory for too long. I want to come back here one day.”
“I hope that happens.”
“I do too.” She took a chance and met his gaze, thought about being completely honest with him, then remembered her place. Forcing her voice to brighten a bit, she added, “I’m going to miss many things here.”
A new, bright interest filled his gaze. “What are you going to miss?”
You.
“The farmer’s market. The grip cars.”
You.
“Is that all?”
“Oh no.” She tried to giggle, though the noise came off sounding a bit like a braying mule. “Believe it or not, I’m going to miss the noise of the trains. The flower sellers, the newsboys.”
“Anything else?”
You.
“All the people.” And because his gaze was so intent, she added quickly, “And the fair, of course.”
“Of course.” Leaning a bit closer, he picked up her hand. Rubbed a thumb along her knuckles. “Will you miss anything else? Anyone else?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “I’m going to miss Eloisa. And your mother. And even most of the servants at Sloane House.”
“You’ll even miss them? In spite of everything that’s happened?”
“In spite of everything, I’ve learned that most people will go out of their way to help others. Even a coarse country girl like myself.”
He shook his head. “That’s never been you. You’ve been a pleasure to get to know.”
“Thank you, Mr. Armstrong.”
“You call me Reid now, remember?”
“I haven’t forgotten.” No, she hadn’t forgotten a thing.
The carriage was moving steadily down the street now. In no time, Rosalind realized, they would be at the train station. And their relationship would be at an end.<
br />
She changed her mind. It was time to thank him properly. There was no way she was going to leave him without being honest. She owed it to him.
But even more importantly, she owed it to herself.
“Reid, before I leave, I wanted to be sure I said something.”
“What is that?”
“I—I wanted to let you know that while I will miss so many things about Chicago, and I will always remember the many friendships I’ve made, I will miss you most of all.” She felt her face flame, but she held his gaze steadily.
His body stilled. “Why is that?”
Her words were forward. Not at all in keeping with their relationship. Not at all in keeping with the things her mother had taught her, for that matter. But perhaps her mother and society had never imagined the things she and Reid would go through together.
Taking a deep breath, she began. “From the first time I met you, you’ve always made it seem like I was more to you than a mere maid at Sloane House. You made me feel like I was a real person. Like I was Rosalind.”
“You were real to me.” He rubbed her knuckle again. “Rosalind, from the first moment I saw you standing in the hallway of Sloane House, I knew I’d never forget you.”
Her heart started beating faster. Her pulse raced. Here, at last, was everything she was dreaming of . . . but of course, he was merely being kind.
She swallowed. “Also, uh, Reid, you’ve helped me in so many ways. You’ve given me your time. You’ve listened to my troubles. And no matter how outlandish everything sounded, you believed me.” She looked down, then peeked at him from under her lashes. “At least, it felt that way to me.”
“I did believe you. Your story was fantastical. But it was also something that could happen.”
“In addition, you helped me with Douglass, and you even gave me shelter when I had nowhere to go. I owe you so much, Reid. I doubt I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
Now that her little speech was over, she smiled. If nothing else, she’d be able to leave knowing that she’d done her best to be honest with him. Almost.
Secrets of Sloane House Page 27