by Nancy Moser
That stunned the listeners to silence.
For a moment.
“Where?” Mrs. Tremaine asked.
“The maid who got into trouble, the one you had to dismiss? That was Charlotte Gleason.”
Mrs. Tremaine nodded as if connecting the dots.
“So you traded places? She’s now a maid?” Beatrice asked.
“Not exactly.” How could she explain it in the simplest of terms? Once she began, Dora avoided looking at Conrad. “Lottie was on her way here to marry Conrad, and I was her companion. But on the ship she changed her mind. She has an adventurous streak. It was nothing against any of you.”
“Sounds like a slight to me,” Mr. Tremaine said.
“Lottie is actually very caring. Instead of just saying no and letting that be that, she thought of her parents and how much they were depending—” That wasn’t the right word. “How excited they were at the idea of her marriage.”
Beatrice slapped the table again. “Excited about their daughter marrying Conrad for his money.”
Dora shook her head. “Not at all. Lottie gave up the chance to live this wonderful life. But she didn’t want to disappoint her parents. That’s why she asked me to take her place—which I was very willing to do.”
“Of course you were,” Beatrice said, linking her arms across her chest. “You had a chance to marry one of the richest men in New York.”
Charlotte could have denied it, but chose not to. “Of course that intrigued me. I’ve been in service since I was thirteen. It’s all I’ve ever known. To have the chance to live a different life, a better life? What girl wouldn’t take that chance if offered?”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Tremaine said.
“Then how did the real Charlotte end up a maid?” Mr. Tremaine asked.
“She’s not really a maid. She came here to see me, to ask me to end our charade. She decided impersonating a maid would get her in the door.”
“There is far too much deception going on here,” he said.
“I know,” Charlotte agreed. “And I apologize for all of it. We truly meant no harm. It was a way to get to America. To start over.” She thought of the stories she’d heard. “Isn’t that how America came to be? Through people wanting to start fresh?”
“At whose expense?” Beatrice asked. “You duped us.”
Charlotte remembered the softer Beatrice who’d showed Charlotte her paintings and who’d come alive with the thought of displaying them at her family’s store. “No matter what name I came under, I’ve lived here as myself. All I’ve said and shared and felt has been genuine.” She looked at each Tremaine. “I care for all of you. I have lied by assuming another identity, but I’ve been totally honest with you in all my other actions.”
The silence was palpable, and Charlotte lowered her head, avoiding their eyes.
Finally Conrad spoke. “So? Will you still marry me?”
She looked up. “Marry—?”
“I don’t know about that, son.”
Mrs. Tremaine shushed them. “Let her answer.”
Conrad found Charlotte’s hand and took it in his. “Will you marry me, Char … Dora?”
Charlotte was stunned. All this time she’d feared exposure and its consequences, yet now she was going to be allowed …
She clutched the handkerchief in her lap and raised it enough to see it and remember all it represented.
Edmund. I love Edmund.
With tears in her eyes, she looked upon Conrad. He was so trusting, so generous to ignore her deception. “Thank you, Conrad, but … but I can’t marry you.”
“What?” Mr. Tremaine threw his hands in the air. “Are you crazy, girl?”
“Perhaps,” she said. And she meant it. She had no guarantee that Edmund would want to marry her. By giving up Conrad she might lose both men in her life. But the truth had come this far; she couldn’t backtrack into a lie.
Conrad leaned close as if trying to achieve a measure of intimacy amid his family’s presence. “Why, Dora? Why change your mind? I forgive you. I love you no matter what your name is.”
Oh, how she hated to hurt him. She put a hand upon his cheek. “You’re an amazing man, Conrad Tremaine. You’re creative and strong and wise and kind, and your family is privileged to have you take over the business. But you deserve someone who loves you as a wife should love a husband. I’ll always love you as the dearest friend. But I can’t marry you.”
He studied her a long moment, then touched the hand upon his cheek, kissed it, and let her go.
Charlotte rose. She couldn’t stay among them a moment longer. “I must go now. I’ll pack and—”
“You’re not taking all those dresses we got for you,” Beatrice said.
Mrs. Tremaine raised a hand. “She can take whatever she wishes.” She extended her hand toward Charlotte.
Her generosity and forgiving nature were surprising. Charlotte went to her, gripped her hand, and gave her a kiss upon the cheek.
“Be well, dear girl. And remember that Gertie is here if you need her.”
Charlotte ran from the room.
Dora burst into her bedroom and shut the door. Then she fell to her knees, letting her hands cushion her forehead upon the carpet. “Oh, God, thank you. I never ever imagined it could happen like this.”
She stayed in that position before the heavenly throne a good while, her heart overflowing with gratitude and awe. Her exposure had ended in a manner beyond her imaginings. Not only had she not been kicked out, not only were the police not called, but Dora Connors was leaving with the family’s blessings.
Only a knock on the door pulled her from her prayers.
“Yes?”
Mary popped her head inside and showed surprise at seeing her mistress on the floor. “Are you all right?”
Dora held out her hand and Mary helped her to standing. “I’m fine.”
Mary faltered. “I thought maybe you was feeling poorly, because Dr. Greenfield is here to see you.”
Dora laughed aloud at God’s amazing provision. “Send him up.”
With Mary gone to fetch him, Dora looked at the handkerchief that had started and consummated her amazing journey from Dora to Charlotte and back again.
There was a soft rap on the door. Dora’s heart leapt as she said, “Come in.”
Dr. Greenfield entered—Edmund entered, his countenance clearly confused. “Your maid said I should come up? Are you feeling poorly?”
She grinned. “Not at all.”
He was still confused. “You seem very happy.”
“Oh yes.”
A nod. “I came here to see … I passed Conrad on his way out. He said he’d proposed and … I was to ask you about it?” He straightened his back, putting on a mask of formality. “I wish to congratulate you on your engagement.”
She was nearly bursting, wanting to proclaim her love. Yet she couldn’t, not without knowing how he felt.
“I’m not engaged to Conrad,” she said. “He asked, but I told him I couldn’t marry him.”
Edmund blinked, then blinked again. “Couldn’t?”
“No, I couldn’t. Because I didn’t love … him.”
She watched as comprehension washed over his face. His eyes began to sparkle. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I’m not.” She reached out a hand. If he took it …
Edmund stared at it for but a second before taking hold, then found her other hand and pulled her close. “It appears I am not sorry either.”
“Because … ?” She smiled up at him.
“Because if he were to marry you, then … then I could not.”
She stepped back and spread their arms wide, lifting her face to the heavens, fully and completely happy.
Edmund took a step closer and pulled their hands to the center until they were all that kept them apart. “I love you, Charlotte Gleason.”
“The name is Dora.”
An eyebrow rose. “So you’re fully back again?”
“I am back
where I belong.”
“And your answer, Dora?”
“My answer is yes. Very much yes.”
He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Then my prayers have indeed been answered. God has finished our story.”
Dora remembered their parting on the ship and something else Edmund had said. “Until fate allows,” she murmured.
He nodded, also remembering. “Until fate allows. Until now.”
“Until now.”
“May I kiss you, Dora?”
She was giddy. “Oh yes. Please.”
The kiss that sealed their promise made her … swoon.
Dora held the emerald necklace in her hands. Of all the beautiful things she’d been given since coming to the Tremaines’, this was the hardest to relinquish. Not for its monetary worth—which was beyond her grasp—but because it was a family heirloom given to her by Conrad.
She took it out of the box and held it around her neck once more. She’d never felt as glamorous as she had last night when she’d donned the extravagant dress that had been custom-made for her. Never so glamorous, yet …
She closed her eyes and remembered a more recent memory, when she and Edmund had looked into each other’s eyes and declared their love. That moment won the prize for making her feel more beautiful than any other moment in her life.
Her fingers touched the stones one more time before she carefully put the necklace back in the box and reread the note she’d written to Conrad: Give these to a woman who deserves your love, for she is out there, Conrad. You are a man worthy of the world, and I’ll always remember you with the fondest regard. Many blessings, Dora.
She closed the jewel case, setting the note on top. Then she scanned her bedroom one last time. It was truly a palace within itself. She let her eyes move upward to the enormous golden chandelier that loomed over her bed and smiled as she remembered what Beatrice had first told her: “If you have trouble sleeping with that chandelier looming above you, put a pillow over your face.”
Perhaps such lavishness was not meant for human consumption.
Perhaps none of the life of high society was. The extravagant dresses, the sumptuous meals, the decadent jewels. She didn’t begrudge the Tremaines their riches, for she knew they had earned them. Riches in themselves were not evil, it was the love of money that gained God’s ire. And she didn’t think the Tremaines loved it as much as many. Mrs. Tremaine—Gertie—still remembered her roots, and both Beatrice and Conrad longed for meaningful work and purpose. Perhaps with the encouragement she’d given them, they might find it.
She hoped so. For she would leave the mansion better for having known them. Wasn’t that the true test of an experience?
It was time to go. Edmund had told her he knew of a woman’s boardinghouse that could take her in until they married and found a place of their own.
A place of their own. The concept was unfathomable and beyond exciting. When she’d considered marrying Conrad, a “place of their own” had been involved, yet a sense of restrictive attachment and dependence had been tightly wound around the notion. But with Edmund there would be no ties to bind them except to each other. They were the roots from which a new tree would grow.
Her trunks were packed with the clothing she’d brought with her, and she wore her original traveling ensemble. She now realized it was a bit out of fashion, but knew Edmund wouldn’t mind.
She put on her bonnet and looked in the mirror to adjust the bow. Then she checked the dressing table one more time. Yes, she had the handkerchief … she’d made very sure of that.
There appeared to be nothing else of hers to take, so—
Dora did a double take, letting her gaze fall upon a lone bloom in a vase. It was the flower Conrad had plucked for her in Central Park. Although it had lost its vibrancy, its petals were still intact.
She removed it and stuck in into the brim of her bonnet.
Now she was ready to leave. To move on. To start again.
With dearest Edmund.
“Can’t we go any faster?”
Edmund put a hand upon Dora’s, calming her. “The driver is going as fast as he’s able.”
She knew that to be true. But once she’d decided to tell Lottie the coast was clear and she could be herself again, a minute was too long.
The carriage slowed, but Dora didn’t get excited. The stop-and-go traffic in New York had fooled her too many times already.
But this time the carriage stopped completely.
Edmund looked out the window. “This is it.”
With great difficulty, Dora waited until Edmund exited. If only she could burst into the house like a child with great news to share. Lottie! Lottie! You’ll never believe what happened! The coast is clear!
Instead she took Edmund’s hand and stepped onto the pavement and up to the door. A sign said they could enter, but they rang the bell.
A young boy answered. “You’re pretty,” he said.
“Why, thank you. Is Lottie Hathaway here?”
He nodded, then turned and ran inside, leaving the door open for them.
“Miss Lottie! Someone’s to see you.”
“Don’t shout, Otto. I’m coming.”
Dora watched Lottie descend the front stairway holding a baby.
She stopped. And stared.
“Dora. You came. And Dr. Greenfield?”
Edmund tipped his hat, then removed it to enter the house. “Nice to see you again, Miss …”
Ah. The issue at hand fell between them. Was Lottie a Hathaway or a Gleason?
Dora’s eyes as well as her hand sought the baby. “Is this the boy you found?”
“His name is Fitzwilliam. He’s my son.”
Dora pulled her hand away from the blanket. “You’ve truly adopted him?”
“In all but paperwork.” Lottie nodded at the bevy of children running through the house. “With such a need, the process can be expedited.”
“He looks quite healthy,” Edmund said. “But for a cold?”
“A small one.” Lottie led them into the parlor. “Do come and sit down.” She shooed a few children away and sat with the baby in her lap. “So,” she said. “I suppose my outburst at the Tremaines’ was the talk of the party.”
“Not at all,” Dora said.
Lottie seemed disappointed. “Mr. Tremaine made no mention of it?”
“Not too much.”
“Just as well.” Fitzwilliam struggled against the blanket and she set him loose, letting him stand upon her legs. “You’re getting so strong, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Dora marveled at the sight before her. “I’ve never seen you like this,” she said. “I didn’t know you liked children.”
“I didn’t either. It’s almost disconcerting the way they melt my heart.” She set the boy in the crook of her arm and let him play with her fingers. “So. I asked you to come and you did.”
“You wanted to have your place back. Your name.”
“Yes, well …”
Dora looked to Edmund for support. He nodded. Just tell it.
“Conrad proposed and I accepted, but—”
Lottie’s eyebrows rose. “That was quick work of him.”
Dora raised her hands, stopping Lottie’s presumption. “But I’m not marrying him. I’m marrying Edmund.” Dora took his hand, feeling fortified by its strength. “Beyond that, the way is clear. The Tremaines know everything, know all about the masquerade. So you see, you can go to them now and claim your rightful place as Charlotte Gleason. It will be awkward, and they will demand some hard answers, but I’ve seen you charm harder folk than they.”
Dora expected Lottie to jump in, to make some Lottie-ish comment like it’s about time, or finally, or …
“That won’t be necessary.”
Dora wasn’t sure she understood. “What won’t be necessary?”
“I don’t want to claim my place. I don’t want to go to the Tremaines’ at all. I want to stay here. With Fitz.”
&
nbsp; Dora was confused. “But you said you wanted to bring Fitz with you to the Tremaines’. You wanted to marry Conrad so Fitz would have a father.” In spite of her declaration, Dora felt odd casting Conrad as Lottie’s fiancé so quickly after breaking her own engagement to him. There was no guarantee he would find Lottie agreeable. And in all honesty, Dora wasn’t sure the two of them were at all suited to each other.
Lottie broke into Dora’s thoughts. “Fitz will have a father.”
A man came into the room from the hallway. He was strong in build with Nordic features. “Hello. I’m Anders Svensson, Lottie’s fiancé.”
Dora felt her head give a bow but could hardly summon a single word of response. Lottie was engaged?
Mr. Svensson moved to Edmund and the two shook hands. Then he took a seat on the settee next to Lottie, kissed her on the cheek, and drew Fitz into his arms, making the funny faces adults make when a baby is near.
Lottie let out a laugh. “I see I’ve managed to surprise you. Even shock you?”
Dora tried to grasp what she’d heard. “But … you came to the Tremaines’ expressly to talk to me, to tell me you wanted to end the charade. You wanted to marry Conrad. What happened between—?”
“Then and now?” Lottie slipped her hand through her fiancé’s arm. “Sven happened, and God and the moon and Nanny and wisdom and—”
A portly woman joined the group with a two-year-old on her hip. Dora recognized her immediately. “Miss Hathaway!”
“In the flesh. Nice to see you, Dora. My, my, I see you’ve grown into a lovely young lady.” She kissed Dora on the cheek, then turned her attention to Edmund. “So this is the doctor who met my girls on the ship?”
“Edmund Greenfield, at your service.”
“Actually, with all these wee ones around, I may take you up on that.” Once she was settled in a rocking chair, she set the child on the floor. “So now, I take it Lottie has told you about her choice?”
“A little.”
Nanny shook her head. “That’s our Lottie. She always gets what she wants.”
Lottie leaned her head against Sven’s shoulder. “Only this time, it took a little doing for me to know what that was.”