He halfheartedly signaled and quickly settled back in his chair. ‘‘Do sit down, Mildred.’’
While preparing for bed after last night’s band concert, Olivia had discovered a note propped on her pillow with brief instructions from Charlotte that she was not to be awakened for church the next morning. She did not plan to attend. Although Olivia shouldn’t be pleased by such an announcement, she sighed with relief. She didn’t want to begin the day explaining her lack of interest in Mr. Howard’s advances, and there was little doubt Charlotte would insist upon a detailed report of the previous evening’s activities.
Olivia quietly departed, thankful Charlotte hadn’t stirred. Later in the day, she’d be better equipped to deal with the woman. And, if all went well today, Fred would ask her to remain after church services and join them for the noonday meal. She set off for the DeVaults’ with a spring in her step— until thoughts of Mildred Malloy returned. What if Fred planned to escort Mildred to church today? She slowed her gait. Had she seen Mildred at church in the past? While she knew several other hotel employees regularly attended, Olivia didn’t recall seeing the hotel maid there. She could only hope the young woman attended one of the churches in Kensington or Roseland rather than Greenstone in Pullman.
She was half a block from the DeVaults’ when she saw Martha, Albert, Fred, and his mother walking down the front steps. She waved and called to them. Certainly very unladylike behavior, but they were departing without her. She hastened her speed. Martha and Albert waited, but Fred continued onward with his mother by his side.
‘‘Why were you leaving without me?’’ She gasped for air between each word.
‘‘Catch your breath, Olivia.’’ Martha rubbed her back like a worried mother. ‘‘After seeing you in that fine box at the concert last night, Fred said you’d surely be attending church with Mr. Howard this morning.’’
Olivia’s stomach lurched at the remark. Why would Fred draw such a silly conclusion? Did he think her attentions could be so easily swayed? They hurried along and were soon closely following behind Fred and his mother.
‘‘Good morning, dear.’’ Mrs. DeVault glanced over her shoulder and offered a bright smile to accompany her chirpy greeting. Fred did neither.
Tilting her head close to Martha, Olivia whispered, ‘‘Is Mildred meeting Fred at church?’’
Martha shook her head. ‘‘No. She attends over in Kensington. Besides, I don’t think he asked her. Are you troubled because he escorted her to the concert last night?’’
‘‘Well, of course. Wouldn’t you be worried, too?’’
‘‘I don’t think he’s fond of Mildred, but he didn’t want his extra ticket going to waste. I suggested he give it to Luther Hughes, but I think he planned to fire some jealousy in your soul.’’ She grinned. ‘‘Looks as though he succeeded.’’
Olivia tried her best to finagle a seat next to Fred, but it seemed as though he did everything possible to make her attempts futile. When all was said and done, Olivia was squished between Mrs. DeVault and Mrs. Verdon, a large woman who continually expanded her seating space throughout the service. By the time they stood for the benediction, the width of Olivia’s pew space had decreased to no more than twelve inches. She’d listened to the sermon while seated on her left hip with her arms wrapped around her waist and Mrs. Verdon’s feathered hat tickling her neck. She hoped to never repeat that experience again!
‘‘Would you like to join us for dinner, Olivia?’’ Mrs. DeVault’s offer was a welcome respite after more than an hour of pain and suffering beside Mrs. Verdon.
‘‘I’d be de—’’
‘‘I’m certain she has other plans, Mother. It appears that Mr. Howard is heading in her direction.’’
Why had Fred been so quick to interrupt her acceptance? Perhaps Martha didn’t know the depth of his feelings for Mildred. Had he planned to spend the afternoon in Mildred’s company?
‘‘I have no plans with Mr. Howard or anyone else, Mrs. DeVault. I’d be most pleased to join you.’’ She turned to Fred. ‘‘However, if you and Mildred have arrangements to see each other this afternoon, don’t let my acceptance interfere.’’
Fred glanced over his shoulder as he escorted his mother out of the pew. ‘‘We’ll see if you come to dinner once Mr. Howard makes you an offer for an afternoon outing.’’
Before she could respond, Mr. Howard drew near and clasped her waist in an unforeseen and proprietary manner. Olivia twisted from his hold as Mrs. Verdon lumbered out of the pew and into the aisle.
‘‘I thought you might join me for the afternoon. I’ve arranged for a picnic lunch and rented a rowboat. I thought you would enjoy a surprise outing, so I didn’t mention my idea last evening.’’
His assumption she would agree astonished her, especially after she’d turned down his invitation to attend church with him. ‘‘I’m sorry, Mr. Howard. I have previous arrangements. If you’ll forgive me, I must hurry and join my friends.’’
‘‘Next Sunday, then. I’ll take care of everything.’’ He made his way around Mrs. Verdon without waiting for Olivia’s reply.
The man was certainly persistent. She would send him a note of refusal in the morning.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A piercing scream shattered the still warmth of the August night, and Olivia sat up in her bed with a start. Had she suffered another nightmare? Her heart wasn’t racing, but she remained convinced a scream had wakened her. She sat on the edge of the bed and strained to listen. Had the shriek come from the park down the street or from a nearby house? Perhaps she was once again overreacting.
Since Eddie’s discharge from the hotel, she had grown fearful and with good cause. Unlike Georgie, Eddie hadn’t been offered another position with the company. Instead, he’d been banned from the town of Pullman. But before making his final departure, he’d caught Olivia outside the hotel and issued an ominous warning that she’d be sorry she ever got involved.
Olivia had been unable to forget his menacing words: ‘‘Just about the time you think I’m out of your life, you’ll find out different, Miss Olivia Mott.’’ With a dark look, he had angrily spewed forth the words at her. There was no doubt in her mind that Eddie Calhoun was a young man to be reckoned with.
A shiver coursed through her as another shrill scream sliced through the silence. It was coming from the next room. Charlotte! Shoving her feet into the worn slippers at her bedside, Olivia hastened to the room next door. Without knocking, she hurriedly entered.
Charlotte reached out and clutched Olivia’s hand in a painful grip. ‘‘It’s time. The baby is coming.’’
Using her free hand, Olivia brushed several strands of matted hair from Charlotte’s forehead. Although the baby wasn’t expected until next month, Olivia didn’t argue. There was little doubt her ladyship was in labor. ‘‘Turn loose of my hand, Charlotte. I’ll dress quickly and go fetch Mrs. DeVault.’’
The whites of Charlotte’s eyes glistened in the starlit room. ‘‘Don’t leave me, Olivia. I don’t want to die in this house by myself!’’
‘‘You’re not going to die; you’re having a baby.’’ Olivia attempted to wrest her hand free. ‘‘Let go of me so I can fetch proper help.’’
‘‘No!’’ Charlotte tightened her grip, her fingernails now digging into Olivia’s flesh. ‘‘You can deliver the baby.’’
If Charlotte didn’t soon loosen her hold, Olivia would be in need of medical attention herself. ‘‘I’ve never delivered a baby. Let me go next door and see if Mr. Rice will go and fetch Mrs. DeVault.’’
‘‘Promise you’ll come right back. Don’t go after her yourself.’’ Panic clung to each word. ‘‘Promise!’’
‘‘I promise. No doubt you’ve already wakened them with all of your shouting.’’ After wrenching her hand loose, Olivia didn’t take time to dress. She grabbed Charlotte’s wrapper from the foot of the bed and tied the robe around her waist as she went onto the porch and pounded on the neighbors’ door. She didn’
t have to wait long for Mr. Rice to appear, his thin dark hair in complete disarray.
Dark circles surrounded his eyes, and he swiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he opened the door. ‘‘What’s all the racket going on over there? Them screams could wake the dead.’’
‘‘Mrs. Hornsby needs the midwife, and she’s afraid for me to leave her. Could you go fetch Mrs. DeVault, please?’’
‘‘I s’pose I might just as well. Ain’t gonna be able to get no sleep if she’s gonna be hollering the rest of the night.’’ He waved her away from the door. ‘‘Lemme get my shoes on, and I’ll go fetch her. And tell Mrs. Hornsby to try keepin’ it down a bit. Some of us got to work come morning.’’
Instead of offering a snappish rejoinder, Olivia clamped her lips together. She needed Mr. Rice’s help more than she needed to vent her anger at the man. ‘‘Thank you for your willingness to help. I’ll be certain to mention your need for sleep to Mrs. Hornsby.’’
Charlotte delivered another screaming cry that sent Mr. Rice scurrying inside to locate his shoes and Olivia back to their house. She would offer a few soothing words and then set some water to boil. Although she didn’t know why, the few times she’d been at hand when a baby was born, someone always boiled water. If Mrs. DeVault didn’t need hot water for birthing the babe, then there’d be plenty for a good cup of tea when her work was done.
Charlotte moaned and held out her hand when Olivia entered the room. ‘‘Help me! I’m in such terrible pain.’’
‘‘Mr. Rice has gone to fetch Mrs. DeVault. She’ll know what to do.’’ Olivia brushed away the damp curls that had once again matted along Charlotte’s forehead. The air outside hung warm and heavy, but perhaps a breeze would drift though if she lifted the window a bit more. ‘‘I’m going to put water on to boil; then I’ll be back.’’
Charlotte had her eyes closed and didn’t argue. Olivia couldn’t tell if she’d fallen asleep or was too exhausted to argue. She offered a quick prayer that Mrs. DeVault would hurry and then decided it might be best to pray for Charlotte and her baby, too. With the water on the stove and no further cries coming from the bedroom, she removed several sheets and blankets from one of Charlotte’s steamer trunks they’d begun to use for storage shortly after moving into the flat. She truly didn’t know what would be needed, but she wanted to do her best to be prepared.
It seemed a lifetime had passed before she heard Mrs. DeVault and Mr. Rice approaching the house. ‘‘You might want to close that bedroom window so’s to keep the noise down a bit. I’m hopin’ to get me a few hours of sleep afore headin’ off for work,’’ Mr. Rice said.
Mrs. DeVault clucked her tongue and informed Mr. Rice that the room would be much too warm with the window shut tight. ‘‘You might try stuffing your ears with a bit of cotton if things get too noisy for you.’’
Mr. Rice mumbled something in response, but Olivia couldn’t hear, and Mrs. DeVault didn’t take time to respond. Instead, she hastened inside carrying an armload of supplies. Soon they were placing a piece of oilcloth, newspaper, and old blankets beneath a complaining Charlotte. Each time they forced her to move, she cried out in pain.
‘‘Best I check her progress and see how much longer she’s going to be. I’m glad I arrived before her water broke.’’ She glanced over her shoulder at Olivia, who was retreating from the room.
‘‘I’ll go and fetch you a cup of tea, or would you prefer lemonade?’’
Mrs. DeVault pulled back the sheet covering Charlotte’s legs. ‘‘A cup of tea would be nice, dear.’’
Once she was certain Mrs. DeVault had completed Charlotte’s examination, Olivia returned with a small tray bearing a pot of tea and two cups. ‘‘How much longer do you think?’’
‘‘Always difficult to tell with the first one, but she’s progressing nicely. I’m guessing she’ll be holding the babe in her arms by sunrise.’’ Mrs. DeVault took a sip of her tea. ‘‘No need for both of us to sit here, Olivia. Just like Mr. Rice next door, you’ve got to be up and off to work come morning. Best you try and get a few winks of sleep if you’re able.’’
She felt somewhat guilty leaving the room while Charlotte was in the throes of pain, but sitting by her bedside wouldn’t decrease the intensity of her labor. The thought helped salve her conscience as she plopped onto the side of her bed. And soon she dropped off into a restless sleep.
‘‘Olivia!’’ She jumped at the sound of her name. Mrs. DeVault was standing by her bedside. ‘‘You had best get up now or you’ll be late for work.’’
‘‘Charlotte?’’
‘‘You can stop in and say good morning to Charlotte and her son. A fine little fellow.’’
‘‘I slept through it?’’
Mrs. DeVault nodded. ‘‘Charlotte did quite well. She screamed only once after you went to bed. I imagine Mr. Rice got his few hours of sleep, too.’’
The baby was the sweetest little cherub Olivia had ever seen. Charlotte quickly offered him to her, and Olivia wished she didn’t have to go to work. She’d much rather sit and hold the little fellow. His curly blond lashes flickered, and he opened his eyelids to reveal beautiful smoky blue eyes. He latched on to Olivia’s finger with a firm clasp as his tiny lips formed a beautiful pink bow.
‘‘He’s beautiful, Charlotte,’’ Olivia said, pulling the blanket more snugly around him. ‘‘And born on August fifteenth. My own dear mother’s birthday. What will you name him?’’
Charlotte shrugged her shoulders. ‘‘I care little. He’ll assume no title, so it makes no difference. Perhaps I shall reverse his father’s name and call him Morgan Randolph Spencer. Of course we’ll be required to refer to him as Hornsby rather than Spencer. What think you of that, Olivia?’’
‘‘I don’t know if that’s—’’
‘‘Yes. I rather like that idea. Morgan, it is.’’ She crooked her finger, and Olivia stepped closer. ‘‘I’ve told Mrs. DeVault that I plan to bind my breasts and want her to find a wet nurse for the baby. My figure has been ravaged by the pregnancy and birth while Randolph continues to deny his child. I find the idea of nursing a baby repugnant.’’
‘‘Oh, Charlotte, I think you should reconsider.’’
‘‘Well, I thought Randolph should reassess his denial of paternity, but that didn’t occur. The child will at least carry his name, albeit in a different form.’’
The baby squirmed in Olivia’s arms, and her heart ached for him. Would Charlotte’s angry feelings for Randolph Morgan spill over to this sweet infant? She had hoped Charlotte would develop into a loving mother, but her decision against nursing the baby didn’t suggest such an occurrence.
‘‘He’s a beautiful little boy, and I’m confident he’ll bring you nothing but joy.’’ Olivia leaned down to hand the small bundle back to his mother, but Charlotte didn’t reach out. ‘‘You best take little Morgan. I’m going to be late for work if I tarry much longer.’’
Instead of reaching for the child, Charlotte tucked her arms around her waist. ‘‘I think I’ll ask Mrs. DeVault to take the baby home with her for a few days so I can rest.’’
Olivia’s jaw went slack. ‘‘What? Why, that’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard. You don’t want to be away from your baby. He needs you, not Mrs. DeVault.’’ Olivia pried Charlotte’s arms from her waist and cradled the child near his mother. ‘‘He may need his diaper changed. The blanket felt a bit damp.’’
Charlotte wrinkled her nose. ‘‘I’m not going to do that! If Mrs. DeVault won’t take him home, we need to find someone to come to the house and help me.’’ After a brief and rather sour look at the baby, she glared at Olivia. ‘‘Why didn’t you tell me?’’
‘‘Tell you what? That babies dirty their diapers?’’
Mrs. DeVault hurried into the room and pointed a warning finger at Olivia. ‘‘You better hurry if you’re going to get to the hotel on time.’’
Olivia sighed with relief. She would let Mrs. DeVault set Charlotte straight. Pe
rhaps when she arrived home this evening, the matter of the baby’s care and Charlotte’s surly attitude would both be resolved.
Carrying her chef ’s jacket and toque, she raced to the hotel at breakneck speed, skidding to a stop as she entered the kitchen. She nearly mowed down Chef René when he unwittingly stepped in front of her.
‘‘If you went to bed at a decent hour, you might be able to get to work without the necessity of charging into the unfortunate souls who find themselves in your path, Miss Mott.’’ Chef René frowned and tugged on the hem of his jacket as he spoke.
She donned her white coat and hat while offering an excuse for her tardy arrival. She completed the tale by adding, ‘‘He’s a very pretty little boy.’’
Chef René grunted. ‘‘That’s what all you women say about babies. I have never seen one I thought pretty, but I shall not argue the point.’’ Shoulders squared, he marched across the kitchen with military precision. ‘‘Let us begin our breakfast preparations.’’ Brandishing a wooden spoon overhead, he barked his commands like a general preparing to send his troops into battle. Olivia stifled a giggle.
Weary from a lack of sleep and the night’s excitement, Olivia was thankful when the workday finally drew to an end. With luck, she would be able to rest for a short time this evening. She packed food for supper and was preparing to depart when Chef René called her to his office.
She stood in the doorway and leaned against the cool wood of the doorjamb, hoping Chef René would be brief. Charlotte would grow impatient if she was late getting home. Mrs. DeVault had agreed to remain at their flat until six o’clock. Olivia had been thankful for the offer, but Charlotte had complained she didn’t want to be alone for even an hour. After Mrs. DeVault explained she’d be certain all was in order before departing, Charlotte had begrudgingly agreed to the arrangement.
In the Company of Secrets Page 13