Lamont couldn't resist enjoying the bitter peace although he felt ashamed, so he kept quiet. Velma decided it was pointless to stay angry because it only made her more depressed. She didn't come and sit down with Lamont, as he would have liked her to do, as she once did before times became harder than ever before.
The sight of Lamont absorbed in his paper annoyed her and made her wish she could leave him and this life for something else. She lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She pressed her hands against her face and wished for darkness to overtake her.
She felt hopeless beyond hopeless, broken beyond broken and despairing beyond despair. What did all of her hard work, wise decisions and upright living done for her? Was it a trap for those not born of high standing, thinking that they could have something of their own in this work, instead of the utterly degrading poverty and wretchedness in which they now resided?
Velma and Lamont were just past the age employers think it proper for a married couple to work together, unless the wife is an exceptional cook. Velma was not a cook. She was a maid. While she could make the most basic of meals, there was nothing exceptional about her culinary skills.
She could make decent meals for apartment tenants, though. A tenant! She'd been stupid to think of such a thing and press Lamont to put the ad in the newspaper in the first place.
They had had tenants before on their third floor and Charleston was an ideal place since those from other cities and states often visited it in the summers. They had done well with a decent stream of short-term tenants, but not nearly as well as they hoped at the outset. An epidemic of yellow fever had broken out in the city and that had ruined their business. It never recovered and soon, Lamont and Velma found themselves deeper and deeper in debt to a former employer who was careless with lending out his money to those he cared about.
They had considered going back into service employment separately but were waiting for something to change for the better. Lamont had done odd jobs here and there helping former employers in the short-term. Velma had taken in some seamstress work for the daughter of a former employer, but the work was few and far between.
In the past, when they'd each been living the financially easier existence for those men and women who take on domestic service, they had both lived in houses overlooking the Battery. It had seemed a wise plan to settle in a nearby neighborhood and it was what helped make it possible for Lamont to maintain close ties with the servants and employers in Battery Park to secure jobs every once in a while for parties, banquets and receptions.
Sadly, life moves all too quickly and at a jagged pace for people such as Lamont and Velma. Nearly all of their former employers had moved, died or gone bankrupt.
As for now, Lamont was unable to take any more jobs, even if they had been offered to him profusely, as he had sold his dress clothes early on in their financial crisis. He had done so without his Velma's permission, as perhaps a good husband should have done. As this was early on, she didn't have the heart to criticize him, for the money from the sale went directly into her hands. It was from that money she had bought him that surprise packet of pipe tobacco.
As she lay in bed thinking such terrible, sad thoughts, there came a bold knock at the front door, loud and sudden.
Chapter 2
Lamont, in the middle of the newspaper's latest report on the Hangman, jumped from his chair, nearly crumpling the paper in his hands.
Velma leapt from the bed, fastening the robe tightly to her lithe figure.
Husband and wife both stood, listening to the darkness.
There it was again: a loud knock, just as sharp and bold as it was before. It was the knock of a would-be tenant. Anyone else would knock in timid, hesitant ways, such as those begging or those trying to sell their wares. But the knock of a tenant... Lamont and Velma both knew it well.
Yet, at this late hour, it was uncommon for would-be tenants to seek an apartment. Usually, such appointments were during the day. Velma had had some strange encounters with those people who are often ignored and forgotten by the masses, those who fall between the cracks inherent in society's façade, but since they no longer kept the front room lit at night, they had had very few strange guests at odd hours. Darkness did not bade welcome.
Velma looked at Lamont for a moment before she put up her hair quickly and slid into a more respectable gown and returning her robe around her frame. Lamont followed her lead, disrobing to put on a shirt before putting his robe back on. There was a third knock and it had no variation from the first two. It was the same cadence, force and tempo.
"One moment!" Lamont bellowed, peering out the hallway. Though the front of the house wasn't lit, there was enough light from outside that he could make out a silhouette. It appeared to be a man dressed in a hat and heavy cloak.
Velma, once ready, went ahead and Lamont followed. She opened the front door. While it was Lamont's place to do so, Velma knew how to handle trouble far better than Lamont, despite his imposing size. She opened the front door nevertheless, although she wished for a man who would take the lead.
In the dark, the shape of a man, dressed exactly as Lamont could surmise from the hallway. Tall and lanky with a bowler hat perched precipitously atop a mane of thick hair. The cloak the figure wore was knee length and heavy. The hands were sheathed in gloves and one of them held a case similar to a large surgeon's case.
Neither Lamont nor Velma could see the man's face in the darkness. They could only make out the outline of his frame and the darkness it contained. Lamont stumbled for a moment and lit the lantern they kept near the front door. It hissed and crackled to life and soon the figure was bathed in orange light.
The man blinked at the couple, dazzled by the sudden light. Velma could tell right away that this man, even at such an odd hour, was a gentleman. Her former employment had enabled her to identify those of high social standing and wealth. Lamont could also see it, but he wasn't nearly as enamored of such qualities as his wife.
Thick blonde locks underneath the elegant bowler hat he wore framed the stranger’s chiseled face and large eyes.
"My apologies for such a late inquiry, but is the apartment still available?" the man gestured to the sign affixed to the window by the door. His voice was clipped to perfection, balanced and without fault. The voice of one highly educated, Velma deduced.
"Yes, sir," Velma said before Lamont could utter one syllable. The fact that a prospect hadn't darkened their door in many months bordering on a year was enough for Velma to get right to the point. "It's available." She stepped aside, bumping Lamont back a step behind her. She looked at her husband and whispered, "Turn on the lights."
Lamont went about lighting the interior as the stranger walked past them into the hallway. He looked into the spartan living room and up toward the staircase leading to the second and third floors.
As the lights increased thanks to Lamont's effort, Velma took a moment to study the stranger. He smelled vaguely of antiseptic or something like antiseptic.
"Tea tree oil," he said. "I heard you sniffing. It's not a scent familiar to this area. Imported from Australia. It's a natural antiseptic."
"So you're a doctor then?" Lamont asked as he returned to Velma's side.
"Almost. I've come to Charleston to finish my education and gain my medical license," the stranger said, his gaze never wavering from Lamont's. When he finished speaking, he turned his gaze to Velma and smiled.
"I am looking for a quiet place," the stranger said. "A quiet place," he repeated, this time in a dreamy, hushed manner. He continued looking around at the environment on the first floor, nodding to himself. Lamont wasn't sure if the man was repeating his words because the house met that qualification or if the man was emphasizing his needs and seeking assurance from the owners.
Lamont and Velma had managed to keep the first floor as neat and well serviced as possible to entice prospects to stay. There was an ornate hat and umbrella stand by the door and a thick swath of carpet from
the door down the entire length of the first floor hall. Lamont had nearly pawned that carpet not two days earlier when Velma protested.
Now, the stranger looked down at the carpet and rocked his feet back and forth atop it. "Very nice," he said. "This looks like an excellent place and you two look like excellent landlords."
"You'll find the third floor to be very quiet, sir," Lamont said, his dulcet tones filling the space. "My wife and I live here on the first. The second floor is currently empty as well, so you'd have your pick of either floor."
"So then it's just you two," the man half-stated, half-asked.
"Yes, sir," Lamont said, the butler in him quickly returning.
This all seemed too good to be true, at such a later hour on such a dismal day in such a depressing life. The possibility of a new tenant who appeared to be a well-to-do gentleman, speaking in a pleasant and courteous manner, reminding both husband and wife of former employers and their families, speaking to them in a similar manner. It evoked good memories and the promise of restoration for them financially.
"This sounds very promising," the man said. "Two floors are available? Perhaps I should inspect both before making a choice?"
Lamont and Velma nodded politely and the former butler gestured for the man to follow. "Velma, perhaps you could prepare some sort of refreshment for our guest and possible tenant?"
Velma stepped back. She gulped slightly, though it was unseen in the shadows. They had little food to offer at the moment. The man stopped and turned toward her, smiling at her in a way that made her feel something different than she had felt in some time.
"Please don't. I dined earlier and should this be the quiet place I'm looking for, I would like to retire as soon as possible. I have a very busy day tomorrow," the stranger said.
Velma curtsied and the stranger gave a small chuckle. Velma thought he might have winked at her but his face was in shadow for the lantern Lamont carried at the foot of the stairs was behind him. She gave a slight smile. The man approached her, towering over her slightly, invading her personal space just ever so as he reached past her and pushed the front door shut. He looked down at Velma and again smiled.
"It's definitely unsafe to leave a front door open in Charleston, from what I hear. Anyone can just slip in," the stranger said.
"Thank you, sir," she said. Their eyes met and in shadow, she could still see some sort of light in his eyes.
"I assure you, sir," Lamont said. "We never leave our front door open or unlocked. No need to worry. And you're right. You've come to Charleston at a most frightening time."
"Have I?"
Velma looked at Lamont with wide eyes and a firm mouth. She wanted the pleasantries dispensed with already so the tenant could see the floors and decide to stay, providing them with income.
"Yes, no doubt you've heard about the terrible spate of murders here recently?" Lamont said in a gravely serious tone.
"Not here," Velma said. "They were over near the shore. Far from here."
"Ah, of course. I recall someone talking about it earlier. Terrible state of things, from the sound of it. But I feel safe here," the stranger said, putting out a hand and touching Velma's arm gently.
"I take it you two are the owners of this house and not the service staff?" he asked, still looking at Velma. His eyes trailed down to the cleft over her bosom for the briefest of seconds before turning his attention to the man of the house.
"Of course, sir. We own the house, free and clear," Lamont said.
"Excellent."
"We both have experience as servants, however. I served as a butler, a gentleman's servant. My wife served as a lady's maid."
"Wonderful."
There was a moment of silence before the man's body language indicated he was ready to proceed up the stairs. Lamont led and the stranger followed. Velma remained behind, watching the tall, lanky man disappear up the stairs with her husband.
At the top of the first flight of stairs was what Velma called the drawing-room floor. It had a sitting room in front of the house and a bedroom in the back. Lamont opened the door to the sitting room and quickly lit the lights in the dark room.
It was a pleasant room in the glow of the lamps. The carpet was a forest green and featured a surprising abundance of furniture that had yet to be sold. A large table with four chairs was positioned in the middle of the room. A high chest of drawers in the same ebony shade as the table and chairs took up space opposite from the entryway.
The walls were a paler green and on them hung a series of portraits of Victorian women dressed in ball dresses of tarlatan and lace. They were engravings from an old book. Velma loved these images and felt they gave the room an elegant and refined touch to the space.
Despite the lack of tenants, Velma had religiously kept the house neat and clean and for this, Lamont was deeply grateful to his hard-working wife.
The stranger looked around the room, a look of disinterest creeping across his face. "This is all a bit too much for me."
Lamont felt the deep, dark burden of poverty pressing down on him. Perhaps he had misjudged this prospect and didn't consider that he was, by his account, a medical student and quite possibly a poor one.
"I would like to see the other floor, Mr. --?"
"Barnes, sir," Lamont offered. "Lamont Barnes. Would you care to see the bedroom on this floor first, sir?"
The stranger sniffed the air. "Not necessary. I think I'd like to see what's available on the highest floor, Mr. Barnes."
They returned to the stairs and headed for the top floor. Velma had gone up the first flight and stood on the landing before the second floor. Her eyes met Lamont's, but he wasn't willing to offer up anything as he ushered the stranger to the third floor.
The rooms on the top floor were directly above the drawing room. These rooms were by far the most spartan of the entire house. There was hardly any decoration, but this was pretty much as the Barneses had found them when they first moved into the house.
There was a sink, a gas stove and farmhouse table with two benches, one on each side. There were opposite the entryway French windows that opened to a small balcony that overlooked the rooftops of Charleston, all the way to Fort Sumter on a clear day.
The space was sizable, clean and bare. Lamont cursed himself inwardly, fearing that they had gone from one extreme to the other in terms of living space and furnishings.
However, the stranger looked pleased. "Excellent. Most excellent," he said as he looked around the space. For the first time, he set down the case he'd been carrying and began removing his gloves. He rubbed his hands together, either for warmth or to express delight.
"This is, Mr. Barnes, exactly what I've been looking for," he said as he walked around the space before peering out the windows. "As I mentioned, I'm studying medicine, which requires a number of experiments and I require proper heating." His hand went to the gas stove. "This will be most helpful to me," he said, moving his hand over the sink and running his fingers along its edge.
The stranger removed an elegant silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and patted at his forehead before he sat down at one of the benches at the table. "This table will do quite nicely as well. Plenty of room," he said with a sigh. "I didn't realize how late it had become. I don't know about you, Mr. Barnes, but I am quite tired. I've been walking to and fro all day with barely a moment to stop."
"Yes, sir," was all Lamont could manage. "I take this to mean you'll take the third floor then?"
"Oh, absolutely," he said, looking around again. "This is exactly what I've been looking for the past few days. It's a beautiful home you have, Mr. Barnes. My search is over and what a relief. What a terrific relief!"
The stranger stood and looked toward the window with a distant, faraway gaze. "Where's my bag?" he uttered suddenly, as if he had lost it. He turned to Lamont, who was shocked at the sudden change in the man's demeanor. It was as if he suspected Lamont of theft.
Sugar in Her Bowl Page 3