by Jen Turano
Wheezing ever so slightly from her exertions, even though the wheezing was not going to persuade her to forgo her treat, she tugged the trunk into Mrs. Davenport’s sitting room, let go of the handle, and dusted her hands together.
“I think this will be large enough to hold the rest of your reticules, and . . .” She glanced at Mrs. Davenport, who was staring with wide eyes at the trunk, and frowned. “On my word, is something the matter? You’re looking quite as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Mrs. Davenport pulled her gaze from the trunk, drew in a ragged breath, then smiled an overly bright smile. “I’m fine, dear, although I’ve just decided we should have our tea in the drawing room. The atmosphere down on the first floor will be much less chaotic since we won’t be surrounded by so many memori . . . I mean, items still needing to be packed.”
The next thing Gertrude knew, and before she could ask a single question, Mrs. Davenport practically dragged her from the sitting room, muttering something about the past and how unexpectedly it could come back to haunt a person.
Chapter
Fifteen
“There’s nothing quite like a cup of tea to restore one’s humor, is there?” Mrs. Davenport asked, lifting a cup made of delicate bone china to her lips while apparently ignoring the fact that her hands were trembling like mad.
Gertrude set aside her tea and sat forward on the dainty green-striped chair that flanked the one Mrs. Davenport was sitting in. “You need to tell me what’s troubling you.”
“Nothing’s troubling me. I’m simply a little out of sorts due to the strenuous nature of packing for our spur of the moment holiday. I’ll be fine just as soon as I finish my tea.”
“Whose trunk was that?”
“I’m sure I have no idea. It must have belonged to some long-lost ancestor.”
“An ancestor who had a name beginning with J?” Gertrude pressed.
Mrs. Davenport gulped down her tea, even though doing so had her eyes watering, probably because the tea was still rather hot. Setting her cup down on the small table beside her, she picked up a shortbread cookie and stuffed the entire cookie into her mouth. That made it all but impossible for her to respond, although she might have bitten off more than she could chew because she made a great show of turning to look out the drawing room window as she spit some of the cookie into a napkin.
Swallowing a laugh, Gertrude reached for a cookie as well, put a small piece into her mouth, and simply enjoyed her treat, deciding her best option was to wait Mrs. Davenport out because her employer was not a lady prone to keeping silent for any great length of time.
To her surprise, Mrs. Davenport did not break her silence in a timely fashion, although she wasn’t perfectly silent since she kept stuffing one cookie after another into her mouth. Finally, after a good five minutes had passed, she turned from the window with a face that was somewhat green, eyed the empty cookie platter, and gave the smallest of shudders.
“Shall I ring for more?” Gertrude asked, reaching for the small bell sitting by the empty platter.
“I wouldn’t want to impose on the kitchen,” Mrs. Davenport said weakly, lifting her napkin and taking an inordinate amount of time to dab cookie crumbs from her lips even as she, if Gertrude wasn’t mistaken, let out a bit of a belch.
Sitting back, Gertrude switched tactics. “Did I mention there’s an old Bible, along with an ivory dress with some exquisite lace and numerous bows, stored in that trunk?”
Mrs. Davenport shuddered again, mumbled something about it being “time for a distraction,” and then lifted her head and smiled brightly Gertrude’s way.
“Did I mention how delighted I am that matters seem to be progressing nicely with you and Harrison?” Mrs. Davenport leaned forward to pour herself another cup of tea with hands that barely trembled when she picked up the pot.
Gertrude summoned up a smile of her own. “I don’t know where you got the idea that there are any matters to progress with Harrison. You know perfectly well I haven’t even seen that gentleman since he saw us home from the Cornelia two nights ago.”
“It’s always very telling when a gentleman makes a point to personally escort a guest home,” Mrs. Davenport stated with a knowing nod. “And it didn’t escape my notice that he sent a note around for you yesterday, although I must admit I’ve been disappointed that you didn’t see fit to share the contents of that note with me.”
Since Gertrude wasn’t comfortable divulging that Harrison’s note revolved around his wanting her to keep an eye on Edwina while he was away on business, because that would have Mrs. Davenport believing all sorts of conspiracies were afoot to keep her from presenting Edwina to society, Gertrude settled for a shrug. “Harrison simply wanted me to know he’d been called out of the city on business.”
“Clear proof of his affections for you, if you ask me. I have to imagine he wanted you to know he was out of the city so you wouldn’t worry his interest in you was anything less than earnest.”
Even though that was a lovely thought, Gertrude knew it wasn’t the truth, but before she could deny Mrs. Davenport’s statement, her employer suddenly sat on the very edge of her seat, pinning Gertrude under a sharp gaze.
“Returning to the subject of disappointments, I have to say I was also disappointed you did not see fit to mention the very unusual circumstance of Harrison sweeping you into his arms and whisking you straight off his boat.” Mrs. Davenport saluted Gertrude with her cup. “While I admire your ingenuity in setting up a situation where being swept up into Harrison’s arms was a possibility in the first place, I’m hurt you didn’t share such a milestone with me.”
Gertrude’s forehead furrowed. “My landing in Harrison’s arms wasn’t intentional, although I am curious as to where you got that little tidbit.”
“I heard it from Edwina, who heard it from her sister Adelaide, who heard it from the eldest sister, Margaret.”
“Then I suppose you also heard that Harrison’s reason behind the sweeping stemmed from Margaret chasing us. During that chasing, I developed a stitch in my side and was wheezing somewhat dreadfully as we tried to outrun her.”
Mrs. Davenport tapped a finger against her chin. “I’m afraid I neglected to hear that pertinent detail. However, not that I care to appear smug, but you’ve evidently been suffering from wheezing often of late. Makes me wonder why you’ve been protesting your trips to the attic when they will strengthen your lungs, making you less prone to wheezing in the future.”
Gertrude wasn’t certain if she should laugh or bang her head against the wall. “To refresh that obviously faulty memory of yours, Mrs. Davenport, the main reason I was wheezing the night of the engagement celebration was because I had to borrow a dress that was two sizes too small for me from Edwina. The reason behind that borrowing, if you’ll recall, was because the bustle you created and demanded I wear that night was not what anyone could call practical, and . . . well . . . there’s really no need to revisit the horror that happened to me while I was wearing that creation.”
Mrs. Davenport pursed her lips. “There’s no cause to be so snippy.”
“There’s no cause to embarrass a person either, but that didn’t stop you from sending me off to a formal engagement celebration wearing a birdcage attached to my behind.”
“It was only half a birdcage.”
“True, although I must say here and now that birdcages really have no place being turned into bustles—no matter that gossip has it the size of bustles will continue to increase. However, because we are short on time and arguing is not going to help the tight schedule we’re currently under, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to pack up all the reticules you’ve decided we can’t leave behind.”
To Gertrude’s concern, the color that had recently returned to Mrs. Davenport’s face drained immediately as she began biting her lip and looking almost nervous.
“If you’re concerned I’m going to make use of that mysterious trunk, do know that I’m planning on hauling it straight back
up to the attic, where it can continue to molder forever if that’s what you wish,” Gertrude said.
Mrs. Davenport’s eyes suddenly seemed suspiciously bright. She blinked, blinked again, then let out a sigh. “You’re very kind, dear, too kind to me in fact, and I fear what I have to disclose next will do a grave disservice to that kindness you’ve always afforded me.”
Gertrude lowered herself back into the chair she’d just begun to vacate. “Have you decided you don’t need to take all of those reticules with you to Newport, and you’re worried I’m going to be annoyed with you because I’ll need to put them away?”
“No, that’s not it at all, although what I have to explain does revolve around reticules, or rather one particular reticule, the one I might have, quite unintentionally mind you, misplaced . . . on a yacht . . . that might happen to belong to Harrison.”
For what felt like an eternity, Gertrude simply sat on the chair, wishing she had not heard the words Mrs. Davenport had just uttered. When her employer shifted on the seat and smiled a less than genuine smile, the temper Gertrude always fought to keep in check no matter the ridiculousness of Mrs. Davenport’s request took that very moment to break free. Heat coursed over her as her fingers clutched the arms of the chair, her mind whirling with retorts she knew she would never voice, no matter the fury she felt toward her employer.
“May I dare hope the contents resting in that particular reticule are not of a questionable nature?” she finally managed to ask.
Mrs. Davenport’s smile dimmed. “They’re perfectly ordinary items, Gertrude, items often found in a lady’s reticule.”
“But do they belong to you?”
“Ownership is so tricky to explain at times.”
Gertrude lifted her chin. “It’s not, and you’re stalling. What’s in the reticule?”
Mrs. Davenport winced right before she began to tick items off on her fingers. “Two strands of pearls, one silver spoon, a lovely gold locket encrusted with diamonds that has a lady’s portrait in it, and a ring that fits my left ring finger to perfection.”
With anger now thrumming through her every vein, Gertrude rose to her feet and stalked to the window, leaning her forehead against the cool pane of glass as she tried to regain her composure. It would not benefit her situation to rail at Mrs. Davenport, but at this particular moment, she simply could not understand how it had happened that she’d come to be employed by a woman with a distinct propensity for helping herself to items that did not belong to her.
Why had she never confronted Mrs. Davenport or demanded an explanation for behavior that was completely beyond the pale?
Mrs. Davenport was a wealthy woman who could purchase whatever item caught her fancy, and yet, from the very first week Gertrude began working for her, she’d been expected to return items that Mrs. Davenport pilfered from one society member after another.
Diamond bracelets, rings, jeweled combs, and even snuffboxes were simply a few of the items Gertrude had been expected to return discreetly. But in all those years, she and Mrs. Davenport had never discussed the matter. The one and only time Mrs. Davenport had even broached the subject was three days after she’d hired Gertrude. That broaching consisted of Mrs. Davenport mentioning she’d accidentally picked up a diamond ring from Mrs. Livingston’s soirée and needed Gertrude to return the ring posthaste, although return it as stealthily as possible.
Instead of demanding a more reasonable explanation, though, Gertrude simply hopped in the hansom cab Mrs. Davenport suggested she hire, directed that cab to Mrs. Livingston’s four-storied brownstone, paid her respects to Mrs. Livingston, and then, in a move that would have impressed the most seasoned actress on stage, dropped the ring as inconspicuously as possible to the carpeted floor. She’d then waited all of a few seconds before she’d released a rather dramatic breath and then pointed out the ring nestled in the carpet, earning Mrs. Livingston’s most earnest appreciation.
It had not been an experience Gertrude enjoyed, and she’d sworn to herself that she’d never do such a thing again. But then, when a diamond bracelet had shown up on a table the day after another society event, she’d found herself traveling through the city in a different hansom cab, returning it without demanding so much as a single explanation from Mrs. Davenport beforehand.
But when she’d met up with Mrs. Davenport after completing her unpleasant task, she’d tried to discuss the situation with her employer.
The discussion had not gone well.
Mrs. Davenport seemed to shrink in size and age right before Gertrude’s eyes. She’d also looked fragile and forlorn, reminding Gertrude exactly how her mother looked before she’d died. Because of that, and because Gertrude knew what could happen to a person when they descended into a despondent attitude, she’d immediately stopped her questioning about Mrs. Davenport’s troubling habits and they’d never spoken about it again.
A pointed clearing of a throat pulled Gertrude from her memories. Forcing herself to turn from the window, she found Mrs. Davenport watching her warily.
“Are you still cross with me, dear?” she asked.
Gertrude arched a brow. “I think cross might not be the word I’d choose to describe what I’m feeling toward you now.”
“Disappointed?”
“Try again.”
“Vexed?”
“Not even close.”
“Does this mean you’re going to refuse to retrieve my reticule for me?”
Swallowing the yes she longed to release, Gertrude walked back to her chair and sat down.
Regarding Mrs. Davenport for a long moment, so long in fact that her employer began fidgeting, Gertrude finally threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine, I’ll do it. But how, pray tell, do you expect me to know who to return all those pilfered items to that are lurking in that reticule? It’s not as if we were in a society member’s house that night. We were on a yacht, out to sea, and while I’m beyond curious to learn how you managed to relieve some of those guests of their possessions, I’m even more curious to learn how you’re going to suggest I return those items without unwanted questions being asked.”
“You’ll be relieved to learn I didn’t take any of those items from the guests, dear. I took them from a stateroom on the Cornelia.”
“You did not,” Gertrude breathed.
Mrs. Davenport winced. “I’m afraid I did, but everything came from one stateroom, and it wasn’t Edwina’s room, if that makes you feel better.”
“How could that possibly make me feel better?”
“Well, you said that Margaret was chasing you, and I’m fairly certain the items that accidentally landed in my reticule came from her stateroom.”
“Enough of the ‘accidentally landed’ business, Mrs. Davenport. You helped yourself to items that didn’t belong to you, but this time, you’ve placed me in a very tenuous position. Harrison is a friend of mine, and I’m appalled that you would abuse his hospitality, and abuse me in the process, by helping yourself to his sister’s possessions and then expecting me to make everything right.”
“I’ve behaved badly, haven’t I?”
“Too right you have, but since I don’t believe you’ll do well in jail, I’ll try to fix your latest incident of questionable behavior.” Gertrude stood up and lifted her chin. “However, do know that this is the last time I’m intervening on your behalf, because as of today, I’m rendering my notice—effective as soon as I complete this last unpleasant task for you.”
Chapter
Sixteen
Not allowing herself to dwell on the tears she’d seen in Mrs. Davenport’s eyes, nor allowing herself to return to the drawing room to withdraw her tendered notice, Gertrude continued down the front hallway. She stopped to fish out a few coins from a jar on the entranceway table to pay for a hansom cab, tucking them into her reticule before she lifted her chin and marched toward the door.
Nodding her thanks to the butler already holding the door for her, Gertrude stepped outside. She made it all of thr
ee feet before her path was blocked by a lady climbing the few steps that led to the front stoop.
“Temperance!” she exclaimed. “This is a lovely surprise.”
Looking up from where she’d been watching the steps, Temperance Flowerdew lifted a hand and pushed back the brim of a very large hat, one that was a bit worse for wear and sported a fabric flower on it that had certainly seen better days. Reaching the last step, she moved directly to Gertrude’s side, and then, to Gertrude’s astonishment, Temperance pulled her into a very firm hug before she released her hold and took a step back.
“I do beg your pardon for descending on you with no notice, Gertrude.”
“No notice is needed, Temperance, although . . .” Gertrude stared at Temperance’s cheek. “What in the world happened to your face?”
Tugging the brim of her hat lower, Temperance shrugged. “It’s of little consequence. I merely got in the way of Clementine’s hand when she was in the midst of a tantrum.”
“Clementine struck you?”
“I’m afraid she did, but I assure you, it looks worse than it feels. I’ve always marked easily, a disadvantage of being born with pale skin.” She patted the large bag she was carrying. “I have rice powder and a horsehair brush in here that will set me to rights again, or at least hide the results of Clementine’s temper.”
Gertrude’s own temper began to flare. “Does she hit you frequently?”
“She misses more often than not, and she would have missed today, but I fear she took me unaware. There I was, putting freshly laundered clothing into her wardrobe, and the next thing I knew, she was attacking me.”
“Good heavens.”
“Indeed, but allow me to spare you the grim details of what happened next. You’re clearly on your way out, so I won’t keep you.”
Gertrude looked over her shoulder, saw a shadow flicker past a window by the front door, and blew out a breath. “I’m afraid if you’re here to visit with Mrs. Davenport, she’s currently, ah . . . indisposed and in no position to receive callers.”