Once We Were

by Aundrea M Lopez

  “Why does he act that way?” Miss Hathaway asked.

  “I've always known him as a bitter man, but the mistress assures me he's not really like that. His former wife, may she rest in peace, was murdered by a lunatic about a year ago. When they found her body, Saier took his boat out to sea and didn't come back for days. I don't think he meant to. He took no food, water, or provisions. When they found him, he was delirious, but he survived. The mistress vows not all of him came back alive. If his unpleasantness didn't catch you, the chilling house did. I swear the place was possessed. Mrs. Saier is still in that house. I know it. That's what tortures Mr. Saier. He failed to save her and now she haunts him to madness. She must, if you hear how he screams at night, like demons chasing him. I'll never work there again. I don't see how the mistress puts up with it.”

  “I don't believe in ghost stories,” Miss Hathaway replied. “I'm sure Mr. Saier is just agonized. Pain will make you believe anything.”

  The train steamed beside them. “Best of luck to you, Miss Hathaway. I highly recommend you as a law secretary. I'd hate to see a girl like you wasted away at the Saier house.”

  * * *

  “I can cook, clean, answer calls, send calls, write invitations, and anything else you may require,” the young lady boasted. “And I absolutely love children. I must say, yours are impeccably conditioned. I didn't hear a peep the entire time.”

  “We don't have any children,” the mistress answered regretfully. “We are not yet married.”

  “Oh, but I'm sure they're not too far off,” the young lady glowed. “Children are most darling. I'm sure you will have many little ones for me to care for.”

  “Actually, Mr. Saier is not particularly keen on the idea,” the mistress whispered

  “And why not? I'm sure he'd make an excellent father.”

  “In due time, perhaps,” the mistress replied regretfully. “When he is ready. Forgive me. Your name escaped me.”

  “You may call me Charlotte,” the lady replied with the brightest smile. “At your service, miss.”

  “Charlotte, the day is already gone,” the mistress said. “I think you are an acceptable choice for this house. I will call on you tomorrow with my decision. Can you start immediately?”

  “First thing tomorrow,” Charlotte exclaimed.

  “Mr. Knightly will show you out.”

  Charlotte bid her goodbyes over and over again, assuring Miss Appleby she would not regret having her on. She pranced out the door, and glanced snobbishly at the next contender.

  “Have you come for the housekeeping position?”Charlotte asked her.

  “Yes,” Miss Hathaway answered. “Is the missus of the house seeing candidates?”

  “You expect to see her in that?” Charlotte giggled, glancing over her plain dress, headscarf, and thick tinted glasses. “Do you really intend to serve a family like the Saiers looking like a drifter? Don't waste your time, darling.”

  Charlotte sniffed off. Miss Hathaway grabbed her coat, a crocheted purse, and the address Mrs. Ricci wrote her. The only possessions to her name. She breathed deeply and walked up to the door. She rang the bell once. “Mrs. Dillsworth, will you get that?” someone cried.

  No one replied. Miss Hathaway rang it again.

  “Mrs. Dillsworth! Oh, never mind! Coming, coming!” The door yanked open. Miss Hathaway lost her words. She stared blankly into the mistress's eyes.

  “Yes?” the mistress said impatiently.

  “Mrs. Saier?” the words stumbled out.

  “Lavinia Appleby,” the mistress corrected. “I have not taken the name Saier yet.”

  “I have come in response to your request for a housekeeper,” Miss Hathaway continued.

  “It's a bit late to receive candidates,” Miss Appleby answered. “I've already made my selection. I'm very sorry.”

  “You don't have to pay me,” Miss Hathaway said quickly. “Just give me a trial. If you don't like me, it's no loss to you.”

  “If my original choice fails me, I will call you,” Miss Appleby answered. “Where are you staying?”

  “I have no permanent address. You may not find me tomorrow. I go where I can work,” Miss Hathaway replied.

  “What dangerous practice for a girl,” Miss Appleby cried. “What does your father say?”

  “My father's passed on,” Miss Hathaway answered. “I have myself.”

  Lavinia's eyes softened. “Do come in and see the house,” she said. “You must understand entirely what you're getting into. I wake at six every morning and require a hot bath and help dressing. Then I take breakfast sharply at eight, because at nine, I am off answering calls. Usually by noon, I come and dress for tea, then attend at least one garden party. Then I will need assistance at the seamstress who is fitting me for a wedding gown. I leave by three and come back to make calls. During this time, I will need assistance drafting invitations for the wedding and reception party. By five, you will assist with dinner and by seven, I spend time reading and answering calls. Then I sleep. I've a busy schedule, you see. Sleep is a luxury so it is important that you keep the house quiet while I rest. Do you have any questions?”

  “Are there other servants working in the house?”

  “Mrs. Dillsworth works in the kitchen, but she is getting up in age. She forbade me to hire anyone else, but it's unfair to leave it all to her. This is the coat closet. You will take the coats and purses of all guests and hang them here. Your things go in the kitchen. Understand?” She tried at the knob. It wouldn't give. “God, I had this open a few minutes ago. I never get it to budge without Mr. Saier.”

  Miss Hathaway watched her struggle with raised brow. “May I give it a try?” she asked.

  “Oh, it's much too stubborn for us women. Don't worry about it.”

  “I believe you're meant to push the knob up slightly and turn it this way. Like this.” She stepped forward to demonstrate. The door quietly swung open.

  “My, you're a handy one,” Lavinia admired. “I'm going to like you very much. What did you say your name was?”

  “Miss Hathaway. Alice, simply.”

  “Alice. What an old fashioned little name. We called my grandmother Alice,” Lavinia said cheerfully. “Let me show you the drawing room. Mr. Saier refers to it as the middle room. Either name will work. You'll grow accustomed to his dialect in time.” Lavinia turned around, but she was alone. “Miss Hathaway, are you there?” she called. She retraced her steps back to the hall. Miss Hathaway stood stiffly. She looked quite disturbed. Lavinia followed her gaze to the White Star Line officer's coat hanging in the closet.

  “I'm sure you've heard the stories that surround this house,” Lavinia told her quietly. “It is a past we can't easily put behind us.”

  “The murder of Mrs. Saier,” Miss Hathaway whispered. “Of course.”

  “We don't talk about it,” Lavinia informed her. “Mr. Saier is forever marked by the memory. He's changed so much since that summer a year ago. I don't think he'll ever be quite the same.”

  “Is he here now?” Miss Hathaway asked.

  “No. He doesn't come around except during the seasons. He's usually away and spends most of his time out.”

  “At sea,” Miss Hathaway finished.

  Lavinia smiled. “Someone's done her research. I appreciate that. Mr. Saier is very fond of the sea. He was a navigating officer on board the Titanic. That's where I gather he met his former wife. He was very close to her. Shortly after she died, he told me he planned on retiring from the sea. I understand why. The sea business isn't giving like it used to. None of Titanic's officers have received promotions to higher offices. I think it's just the top chairs holding him back. They're still bitter that Mr. Saier refuses to change his story about the ship. They try to punish him by not giving him his dues,” she said. “I'm sure you've read the papers. The last girl I hired threw us to the winds. She sold our privacy to the press for her own benefit. I assure you, Mr. Saier is nothing like the devil they made him out to be. I need s
omeone who understands this house and the wounds healing inside of it. Someone who understands this isn't just for pay or a historical thrill. We are only people and we need time to heal like anyone else.”

  “Whatever it is you need from me, miss, you can count on it,” Miss Hathaway told her.

  “Good,” Lavinia nodded. “I rather like you, Miss Hathaway. You're not the most stylish, we'll have to do something about that, but there's a different air about you. You've stolen my trust. This house needs someone like you. If you're sincere, you'll start tomorrow. Let me show you your room. Have you any other luggage?”

  Miss Hathaway held up her unsightly bag. Lavinia scowled. “Never you mind. Mrs. Dillsworth will find you something suitable to wear. Since you are my personal help, you will sleep in the room next to mine. It's a bit small, but it matches your modesty. We cleaned this closet out to make a room three days ago.”

  Miss Hathaway spotted the balcony that overlooked the harbor. Someone had placed a curtain over it. It drifted in the wind, revealing the long, unattractive boards that blocked it's entrance. She glanced down the hall at another room boarded off from the house.“Please don't mind those,” Lavinia sighed. “If I had my way, they'd all be torn down. Such a dreadful waste of space. Please follow me to the kitchen. Mrs. Dillsworth will give you further instruction.”

  Miss Hathaway waited outside. Pots and pans furiously slammed on the counters. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Appleby,” Mrs. Dillsworth fussed. “But I won't allow it. How can you let strangers into our home after all that the master went through. He deserves to live in peace now with those he trusts.”

  “I have considered that,” Lavinia answered. “But you are not in your best health and you could use the help around here.”

  “So is this my replacement notice?” Mrs. Dillsworth demanded. “You mean to throw me out now?”

  “I'm trying to help you!” Lavinia cried. “Last week, you fell and scared the wits out of us. And only yesterday, you knocked a candle over and burned the guest dinning room. You need someone here with you when we're not around. Give her a chance. She's not like the last one. She feels as this house does. She won't get in your way, I promise. She will stay here, understand?”

  Mrs. Dillsworth didn't answer as she continued fiercely washing dishes. “Miss Hathaway, will you please come in here?” Lavinia called.

  The door opened hesitantly. “Don't mind, Mrs. Dillsworth. We'd just like to make sure you are comfortable here?” Lavinia assured.

  Miss Hathaway stepped into the kitchen quietly. Mrs. Dillsworth didn't turn from the sink. “Good evening, ma'am,” Miss Hathaway said. “I don't mean to cause trouble. I am here at your assistance.”

  Mrs. Dillsworth froze with a plate in her hand. Lavinia thought she looked a little pale. “Mrs. Dillsworth, are you alright?” she questioned.

  Mrs. Dillsworth turned to gaze into the eyes of Miss Hathaway. The plate in her hand slipped and shattered on the floor.

  “Oh dear, not again!” Lavinia cried. “Look what you've done! This is exactly why you need help! I'll find the broom! Do not touch anything, Mrs. Dillsworth! I don't want you getting pricked!” She hurried from the room.

  Mrs. Dillsworth stared at Miss Hathaway like gazing at her coming death. She signed the cross over her chest and grabbed the rosary from inside her gown. “Our father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

  “Please, ma'am,” Miss Hathaway reached out to her. Mrs. Dillsworth jumped back. “Holy savior, protect us from any spirit that might seek to harm us in this place,” she prayed trembling. “Please go from this place in peace, spirit, and find the light to heaven where you may find rest.” Miss Hathaway gently touched her hand. Mrs. Dillsworth stared at her.

  “I'm not a ghost,” Miss Hathaway told her quietly.

  “Mrs. Saier,” Mrs. Dillsworth breathed. “We thought...we thought you were dead. They swore up and down that they found your body in a ditch by a river miles from here. You drowned!”

  “Please, not so loud. I don't want to cause an uproar,” Cora begged. “Please don't tell Miss Appleby.” Mrs. Dillsworth squeezed Cora against her. “Forgive me, Mrs. Saier!” she wailed. “It has not been easy without you.”

  She looked over Cora's face through the tears in her eyes. “You can't hide that pretty face behind those ghastly lenses and ugly shawl. I know it anywhere. Has Mr. Saier seen you?”

  “No, he must never know about this,” Cora answered. “Promise me you won't tell him.”

  “He must know!” Mrs. Dillsworth insisted. “He is a broken man. Why would I keep this from him?”

  “It would only put him in danger,” Cora said. “No one can know I'm here. The man who took me is still out there. He doesn't know I escaped. I came back to put an end to him. If he discovers that I'm here, it would destroy everything I've done to keep him oblivious.”

  “But Mr. Saier is marrying Miss Appleby next Sunday,” Mrs. Dillsworth protested. “You are his wife! He must know you're alive! He's making an awful mistake. He'll arrive tomorrow at noon from sea. There's no doubt in my mind that he'll immediately recognize you.”

  “I didn't expect his return so soon. I can't stay here.”

  “But you can't just leave!” Mrs. Dillsworth protested.

  “This is your home. This is where you belong.”

  “This was my home,” Cora said. “It belongs to someone else.”

  “If you go, I can't promise you Mr. Saier will continue to remain in the dark about all this. You'll have to stay if you wish to keep my lips sealed.”

  “You wouldn't.”

  “Try me.”

  “You don't understand how important it is that I remain anonymous.”

  “You don't understand how important you were to that man's life. I won't let you just step out of it again. I won't.”

  “Ioan would know me right away.”

  “Then we shall have to find you a wig and hide those pretty green eyes,” Mrs. Dillsworth suggested. “Don't you ever wonder how they do it in the theater? You can deceive anyone with a little face paint.”

  Chapter 19

  Mrs. Dillsworth fastened a wig of dark brown curls over her honey brown waves. “What do you think?” Mrs. Dillsworth asked. “Are you a different person?”

  “I should have been born a brunette,” Cora commented. “It's devilishly attractive.”

  “Then it won't work. The objective is to smother all signs of Cora Saier. He can't have a twinge in his gut when he sees you. I got the ginger head just in case. It's the safer alternative.” Mrs. Dillsworth snatched back the dark wig and replaced it with flowing, fiery locks. “This is hopeless, Mrs. Saier. You're pretty in everything. Those eyes, they have to go.”

  Cora reluctantly obeyed. The brown color lenses scratched and poked her eyes, but after an hour, she managed them. Mrs. Dillsworth dotted her soft face with freckles and lines. Cora put on the thick glasses and stood before the mirror. “I hardly recognize myself,” she said quietly. “He won't know I'm standing right in front of him.” Mrs. Dillsworth watched her with empathy as she nervously wrung her fingers. “What if he doesn't like me, you know, as a housekeeper?”

  “He notices very little in this house. My guess is he won't even know you're there.”

  “I've been dead a year,” Cora answered. “What will I say?”

  “Nothing that will give you away,” Mrs. Dillsworth answered. “Mr. Knightly will be here with the car any minute. Are you sure you want to go about it like this?”

  “Is he happy?” Cora asked. “Does he love her?”

  “I couldn't say, ma'am,” Mrs. Dillsworth said. “Since he announced his engagement to Miss Appleby, he hasn't spent much time with her. He stays away more than he's home. It drives Miss Appleby mad. I do believe she loves him, but his motive of marrying her is beyond all speculation.”

  “This house is still standing in my absence,” Cora said. “I've already broken
it once. The merciful thing to do is to remain the ghost. I am Miss Hathaway. Convince yourself I am someone you care very little for.”

  The bell rang. Mrs. Dillsworth straightened. “Come along, Miss Hathaway. The master is home.”

  She led the way out the kitchen to the hall and then to the door. The bell wailed impatiently. “You'll do well to keep up. The master does not tolerate idling.” Cora could hardly walk. She kept her breath admirably steady. “Wait here,” Mrs. Dillsworth instructed. She hurried to the door. Cora couldn't see the person standing there from where she stood. She could feel him. His presence revived her beating heart. “Breathe,” she reminded herself. “You're a person for whom he has no regard.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Saier. Welcome home,” Mrs. Dillsworth greeted. “May I take your coat, sir?”

  He silently handed over his coat and continued down the hall. It was not the man Cora remembered. He was dressed in his finest suit, the ones he swore would never see the outside of his closet. His hair was slick and his eyes emotionless. It seemed as if he'd never learned how to smile. He didn't even look at her as he passed the drawing room. None of his surroundings existed. “Mr. Saier,” Mrs. Dillsworth called. “This is our new help, Miss Hathaway.” He looked back at Cora. “Hm,” he muttered, then turned away again. “I'll be in my study. I require a brandy. I cannae be arsed. Inform Miss Appleby that I will come down when I'm ready and not to knock unless she's dead.”

  * * *

  Cora stretched a fresh sheet over Lavinia's bed. She smoothed it out and changed the pillow cases. “I had no idea Mr. Saier was home!” Lavinia cried downstairs.