“Oh, yes,” Evelyn said, summoning an air of confidence. “I’d like to discuss the household arrangements. That is, if you’re not otherwise occupied.”
Mrs. Trimble stared at Evelyn blankly. Clearly, there were no other demands on her time.
Evelyn began by asking Mrs. Trimble to tell her about the domestic staff. Peggy, the nervous housemaid, did the cleaning and served meals. Mrs. Gower, the cook, produced three-course lunches and dinners daily. Mrs. Trimble supervised Peggy, kept the house organized and handled all transactions with shopkeepers and tradesmen. Her husband and adolescent son tended the garden. The Trimbles lived in a small house on the edge of the property, next to the garden sheds; Peggy and Mrs. Gower had rooms on the third floor.
“Mrs. Brewster brought us on as a courtesy,” Mrs. Trimble told Evelyn, “until you’ve hired the rest of your staff.”
“Who else could I need?” Evelyn asked. Weren’t six people more than enough to look after one married couple?
“You’ll want a lady’s maid, surely?” Mrs. Trimble asked. “Another housemaid or two. Perhaps a kitchen girl to help Mrs. Gower, once you start entertaining.”
“Are newlyweds expected to entertain so soon?”
Mrs. Trimble shrugged. “You may do as you please.”
This, Evelyn soon discovered, was Mrs. Trimble’s response to most of her questions. After a frustrating day sitting around the house, waiting for Charles to return, Evelyn realized there was one other person she could turn to. Someone who would tell her exactly what life as Mrs. Brewster entailed. She wrote a note to Alma, inviting her for tea the next day. Just before asking Mr. Trimble to take it to the main house, she scribbled at the bottom of the page, Will is welcome to join us.
Later, Evelyn was grateful she had added that postscript, because the afternoon would have been excruciating without him. When Alma arrived, she greeted Evelyn at the door with a stiff handshake. Will, by contrast, embraced her with a delighted cry of “Sister!” The warmth of his welcome gave her strength for the ordeal ahead.
After they had settled in the parlor, Alma looked around and said, “You’ve certainly got work to do.”
“The house, you mean?” Evelyn asked.
“Did no one give a thought to decor?” Alma asked, shaking her head disapprovingly.
Evelyn glanced around the vast, mostly empty parlor. There were no curtains on the windows, no rugs over the dark wood floors. The furniture had been placed haphazardly in the middle of the room.
“Mother redecorates constantly,” Will said. “She believes a room is not fit to live in until every piece of furniture has been draped in fabric and every surface invaded by china figurines.”
“One’s house is a reflection of oneself,” Alma said, ignoring him. “If a home appears neglected, one may assume the owner is as well.”
“I agree,” Evelyn said. “That’s why I was anxious to talk to you. I need guidance on so many things. Decorating is certainly one of them. Also, which activities I might occupy myself with, while Charles is at work.”
“My dear, I cannot be your nursemaid,” Alma said. “I lead a very busy life. In fact, I canceled another engagement to come here today.”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“However,” Alma interrupted, “I can share a few thoughts.” From her tone, it was clear she was issuing orders, not suggestions. “You’ll want to start with the house. My secretary can give you a list of workmen and suppliers—the people to see about wallpaper and drapes and whatnot. They are mostly in Baltimore, but I assure you it’s worth the journey. Did Charles hire a driver for you?”
Evelyn shook her head. “I don’t think so. He hasn’t mentioned it.”
“How irresponsible of him.” Alma sighed in annoyance. “I suppose you could use one of our carriages, when they are not otherwise engaged.”
“Or I could take you in my motorcar,” Will offered.
Evelyn smiled. “I’ve never ridden in one.”
“Then I insist,” Will said. “Tell me the day.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alma scolded. “You’ll do no such thing, Evelyn. It’s no way for a lady to travel.”
“Ladies in London and Paris travel by motorcar all the time, Mother,” Will said.
“I’ll arrange for a driver,” Alma insisted, looking at Evelyn. She reached into her embroidered bag and pulled out a piece of paper. “This is a list of families we socialize with. I took the liberty of ordering visiting cards for you. You’ll have a few weeks to settle in, but then you’ll need to make calls and introduce yourself. Lavinia will host a lunch next week where you may get acquainted with the young married women in her circle. You’ll be expected to hold dinner parties at least once a month, although you must coordinate with my secretary to make sure we’re not entertaining the same day. And don’t forget to speak with Charles’s secretary at the office. He usually spends a few nights each week in the city.”
“Oh, I hadn’t realized,” Evelyn murmured, trying to keep up with Alma’s admonitions.
“I do encourage charity work,” Alma continued, “but it must be an appropriate cause. We can discuss that another time. It’s nearly four o’clock, and I still have errands in town. Charles did tell you I’m having you both to dinner this evening?”
“No, he didn’t,” Evelyn said, flustered. “Thank you, that sounds lovely. Oh—before you go, there was one other thing I wanted to ask. About Beatrice. Since she is now without a governess, and I’m not very busy at the moment, I thought we might continue our lessons.”
Alma stared at her in horror.
“Only until you can find her a new governess,” Evelyn offered.
“Absolutely not!” Alma exclaimed. “What a preposterous idea!”
“Seems rather convenient to me,” Will said.
“It would never do,” Alma said sternly. “Perhaps you do not understand your new position, Evelyn. You are Mrs. Brewster now. Soon enough, God willing, you’ll have your own children to tend to.”
“Of course,” Evelyn said, trying to hide her disappointment. “It’s only—I miss her. We used to spend so much time together.”
“You may call on Lavinia whenever you please,” Alma said. “She is your sister now, not your employer.” She stood up and walked toward the front door. Without looking back, she called for Will to join her.
Will remained in the foyer next to Evelyn. “Mother, I’d rather walk back to the house. I have no reason to go into town.”
“Very well,” Alma said. “But I won’t have you moping around much longer. It’s time you were out, being seen.”
“Yes, Mother,” Will said. “A Brewster must always be seen. Otherwise, he might as well not exist.”
Evelyn and Will watched from the front doorway as Alma’s carriage took off down the drive.
“Thank goodness she’s gone.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now we can have a real talk!”
Evelyn smiled in relief.
“No doubt you’ve heard I’m a terribly bad influence,” Will said in a mock-serious tone.
Evelyn shrugged, unsure how to respond, and Will leaned toward her.
“It’s all true, I’m afraid,” he confided. “Come—I want to show you something.” He took her by the hand and led her back through the parlor. Although she barely knew him, Evelyn felt immediately at ease with Will—just as she had at her wedding reception. With him, she could be simply Evelyn, not Mrs. Brewster.
They walked through the conservatory, a glass-walled room lined with potted palm trees and ferns. Opening a door at the far end, Will led Evelyn outside. They emerged onto a patio, facing a marble fountain. Beyond them, a wide lawn extended down a hill, framed by flower beds along either side. Gravel walkways led off to the right and left, disappearing behind evergreen hedges as tall as Evelyn.
“This way.” Will pulled her along behind him, following the walkway to the right as it curved along the hedges. They passed a stone bench shaded by trees, t
hen stepped into a field of wildflowers.
“Look over there.” Will pointed across the field, toward a grove of trees in the distance.
“Oh!” Evelyn exclaimed as she spotted the gray stone walls of Alma’s house in the distance.
“It only takes about five minutes to walk from here,” Will said. “Not that I’d suggest traipsing through the fields before dinner. Mother would not approve.”
“She most definitely would not,” Evelyn agreed.
They stood together quietly for a few moments, listening to the wind rustle through the tall grass. Evelyn felt cut off from the rest of the world. From everything that made her life so complicated.
“I was wondering…” Will began, then paused.
Ask me anything, Evelyn wanted to say. Instead, she waited in silence.
“How are you settling in?” Will asked finally.
“Very well,” Evelyn said. “Or—I should say, as well as could be hoped.”
“Mother’s a terrible snob. But you know that already. Don’t let her lectures discourage you.”
“There’s a lot to live up to,” Evelyn said. “The Brewster name and all it entails.”
“The Brewsters,” Will snorted. “We’re lucky to have you. Charles should be grateful.”
Charles. The name hovered between them like a warning sign.
“He’s my brother, and I probably shouldn’t be saying this,” Will continued, “but he can’t be an easy man to live with.”
Evelyn thought back to her wedding night. Charles pinning her to the bed as she lay silently.
“Charles plans on spending much of his time in Baltimore,” she said slowly. “Perhaps that will make things easier.” She smiled to show she was joking, but Will looked at her seriously.
“There you have it,” he said. “Charles, with a lovely young wife, is never at home. And I, a hopeless bachelor, am at home too much.”
“You’re hardly hopeless, from what I hear.”
Will’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Indeed? Have you heard tales of me breaking hearts across Europe?”
“Perhaps.”
“Greatly exaggerated,” he assured her. “I will admit to the broken engagement, but nothing else.”
“Broken engagement?”
“I’m surprised Mother hasn’t mentioned it,” Will said. “She’s so practiced at listing my faults. There’s not much to the story, really. Mother found me a suitable girl, we were going to marry and settle on the estate—this very spot, actually. I designed this house and planned the gardens myself.”
“Oh, I never realized…” Evelyn began.
“No matter,” Will went on. “One morning, about a month before the wedding, I woke up barely able to breathe. The life ahead of me was so terrifying I thought I would die. I wrote a letter to the girl, left a note for Mother and rode to Baltimore that very day. By evening, I was on a boat to France. I stayed away for seven years. Enough time to forget I was a Brewster.”
“What made you come back?” Evelyn asked.
“When I heard Charles was getting married,” Will said, “I realized I was too old to run anymore. It’s time to face my responsibilities. I was a coward to leave in the first place.”
“Some would say it was very brave, starting afresh as you did.”
“I did think it was brave at the time,” Will admitted. “But I should note that I visited our bankers before I left. I wasn’t brave enough to leave the family money behind. But I managed to support myself most of the time I was gone.”
“How?”
“Painting portraits, at first. Society girls on tour and that sort of thing. Acting as a guide and translator for Americans abroad. Racing motorcars.”
“That explains your dashing arrival at my wedding!” Evelyn teased.
“If you’re willing to risk life and limb, I would be happy to drive you to Baltimore,” Will said. “I promise not to attempt any speed records along the way.”
“Would your mother be appalled if I agreed?” Evelyn asked.
“Yes,” Will said. “That’s why you must do it.”
Evelyn pretended to be torn. But they both knew what her answer would be.
“Tomorrow,” Will said. “Let’s say ten o’clock? We’ll do your shopping, then I’ll take you to lunch.”
It didn’t take Evelyn long to give in. After watching Will walk across the field, she stayed in the garden, strolling back and forth along the path, thinking over their conversation. She was still there when Peggy rushed outside, announcing in a panicky voice that Mr. Brewster was home. Evelyn suddenly remembered they were expected at Alma’s for dinner, and she hurried inside.
She found Charles in the bedroom, his shirt and jacket flung on the floor, washing his face.
“Welcome home,” she greeted him, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
“This is why men get married,” he declared. “To be met by a pretty young wife at the end of a long day.”
Evelyn blushed with surprised delight. She was quickly learning that Charles’s moods were unpredictable. The evening before, distracted by work, he had barely spoken to her. She had spent a sleepless night worrying that she’d offended him somehow. If Evelyn had hoped the ring on her finger would improve her confidence, the effect had yet to take hold. She still felt like a helpless servant in Charles’s presence, subject to her master’s whims and inordinately pleased when he tossed a compliment her way.
“I had your mother to tea today,” Evelyn said as she began sifting through the dresses in her armoire. “Good thing, too, otherwise I wouldn’t have known we were expected for dinner tonight.”
“I can’t be expected to supervise our social calendar,” Charles snapped.
Evelyn turned, her heart sinking at his change in tone.
“Mother’s invitation slipped my mind completely,” Charles said. “If you wish to berate me for that oversight—”
“Not at all,” Evelyn interrupted. “I was simply making conversation. I meant nothing by it.”
Charles stared at her, assessing her sincerity.
“Forgive me,” he said smoothly. “I lived my whole life in the household of an overbearing woman, and I have no intention of repeating the experience.” He stepped toward Evelyn and took her hands in his. “I ask very little in a wife. Someone who welcomes me home, sees to my comfort and makes no demands.”
He said the words gently, his fingers caressing her palms, yet Evelyn felt strangely uneasy.
“You have free rein in all household matters,” Charles said, “but I must remain my own man.”
“Of course,” Evelyn said, wondering what he meant.
“Then we understand each other.” Charles bent to kiss her forehead, but Evelyn was left feeling more lost than ever.
That night, watching Charles and Will at Alma’s dinner table, Evelyn was struck by the differences between the brothers. Charles addressed Evelyn as if she were a guest at a formal dinner party, while Will spoke to her as a friend. Charles didn’t ask her a single question, but Will wanted to know her impressions of New York and her plans for the house. Most disturbing to Evelyn were her own reactions to the two men. With Charles, she felt bumbling and unsophisticated. But when she turned to Will, her shoulders relaxed and she found herself smiling for no reason.
Riding home in the carriage that night, Evelyn told Charles about Will’s offer to take her to town.
“At least he’s making himself useful,” Charles said. “God knows what he does with his days. There’s more than enough work at Brewster Shipping, but he wants nothing to do with it. Other than the profits, of course!” His laugh was bitter.
“I do feel sorry for him, roaming around that house with only Alma for company,” Evelyn said. “Perhaps I’ll invite him for lunch from time to time.”
Charles shrugged. “If you like. Perhaps you’ll be a good influence on him. Actually…” His eyes lit up with inspiration. “You might take him along on some of your social calls. Show that he’s back in circ
ulation. He had a disastrous engagement some years ago, but I imagine he’s been forgiven by now.”
“He is a Brewster, after all.” Will would have sensed the mockery in her tone, but not Charles.
“Exactly,” he said. “Mothers will be knocking each other over to secure him for their daughters. You could be his chaperone, make him look more respectable. You think you could polish him up?”
“I’ll do my best,” Evelyn said.
So, with her husband’s blessing, Evelyn and Will became friends. Their jaunts into Baltimore became the highlight of her week. They laughed as they bounced over the country roads, and even with a massive hat and veil, Evelyn arrived in town dusty and windblown. Once, Will reached out to push her hair off her face, and she felt her cheeks warm with his touch.
“Your mother has set me a daunting challenge,” Evelyn confided to him over their first lunch. “She has promised the Chronicle photographs of my house for their society pages.”
“That rag!” Will grimaced. “Were you given no choice?”
“Apparently not,” Evelyn said. “I’m to give them the grand tour as soon as possible, but I’ve barely started decorating. I haven’t the faintest idea what to do.”
“Have no fear,” Will said. “I’ll get everything sorted out.”
And he did, revealing a fine eye for color and texture as he picked out wallpaper patterns and carpets. Over the months, Evelyn watched her house slowly transform from an empty shell into a warm, welcoming home. The day before the photographer was due, Evelyn and Will stood in the parlor, surveying their work.
“Do you think it’s ready?” Evelyn asked.
“It’s perfect,” Will declared. “You’ll dazzle them, Mrs. Brewster.”
Behind them, the front door opened, and Charles walked in. Evelyn was taken aback; he rarely came home before dark.
“What’s going on here?” Charles asked in amusement. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Of course not!” Evelyn rushed over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “The photographer is coming tomorrow. We were just making a few last-minute adjustments.”
“Ah.” Charles looked around the room quickly. “Looks good enough.” He turned to Will and smiled broadly. “Evelyn tells me you’ve been quite a help. I had no idea you had such a flair for home furnishings.” The mockery in his voice made Evelyn nervous. She avoided meeting Will’s eyes.
The House of Secrets Page 5