Blake turned on his heel and strode away in long angry steps. Lolly screamed and began fighting him.
“No, Uncle Blake! No! Petey!” Lolly was crying loudly and struggling to get away.
Blake fought to keep Lolly on his hip without accidentally hurting her. He stopped and turned back to Pete who hadn’t moved.
“You’re the only family she has left. She needs you. Lolly and I are going to be on the next train. Please, Pete. You have nowhere to go.”
Pete took one hesitant step towards them and then another.
Blake felt the tension in his body ebb with every step closer Pete came. “You’re making the right decision, Pete. Let’s go get some breakfast.”
Pete followed several paces behind as Blake led them into the first open restaurant he saw. He went directly to the back corner booth and set Lolly by herself in the seat that faced the street. He motioned for Pete to sit opposite of Lolly and he slid in behind him. It was against every instinct in Blake’s body to sit with his back to the rest of the restaurant but he did it to shield Pete from the stares of strangers. Pete struggled to maneuver his food to the back of his mouth to be swallowed and frequently had to put his finger inside to move the food. “Three bowls of oatmeal, two milks and a coffee.” Blake said to the waitress and jumped when Pete slammed his hand down on the table. “There are better ways to get my attention,” he said tightly, turning to face the boy.
Pete motioned towards the woman’s tablet and pencil.
“May I borrow those?” Blake asked her. She handed them over. “Tell me.”
“No oatmill,” Pete wrote in perfect scrawl. “It go all over my moth.”
Blake had ordered them all oatmeal every day for breakfast because the doctor didn’t want Pete eating solid foods until his mouth was better healed. “Do you think you’re ready for solid food again?” Pete nodded. “Bacon and eggs?” Pete nodded, reluctantly handing the paper and pencil back. “Three orders of bacon and eggs, two milks and a coffee.”
“We don’t have coffee. I can bring you some chicory instead.”
“That’s fine.”
Blake turned to Pete. “Now that I know you can read and write, I expect you to let me know when something’s wrong.” Blake ignored Pete’s angry look and tried to cut the tension with a little humor. “I hope eating solid food today goes well, Pete. You’ve lost so much weight, I’m afraid some washer woman is going to kidnap you and use your ribs for a washboard.”
Pete crossed his arms over his chest and moved closer to the wall.
23
Meredith walked into the lobby of the Chicago hotel holding her head high the way Donna had instructed. Donna was supposed to be there with her making introductions and securing invitations. They both had their trunks packed when word of Donna’s husband came. Hamilton had been injured at Lone Jack, an injury which required the amputation of his arm but he was going to live and he was on his way home.
Donna insisted Meredith go without her with instructions on how to make her presence known.
Meredith made the decision to stay married to Blake when she realized if he could divorce her for infidelity for not being untried when they married then so could any man. She was not giving up without a fight. It mattered not one whit that she had not told him she was a virgin. They had been caught and forced to marry and they needed to live with the consequences of their actions.
If the man wanted to divorce, she was going to create a scandal the likes of which Chicago society had never seen. He would come away from their marriage as wounded as she.
Meredith stepped up to the desk and began peeling the gloves off her hands.
“May I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked.
“Yes, I’d like a room.”
Agnes eyed the fine quality of the young woman’s clothing before pulling out the registry book. She was quick to notice the innocence of the woman’s youthful appearance and wondered why she was not accompanied by her parents or a chaperone.
“Your name?”
“Meredith Warner.”
Meredith had practiced saying her name over and over until it felt more natural. The woman eyed Meredith strangely. “Do you need me to spell Meredith?”
“Uh, no. It’s just….Are you related to Blake Warner?”
Meredith’s heart beat hard in her chest. She knew once she said that they were married, she could not take it back. Meredith swallowed and smiled at the woman. “Oh, you know my husband.”
“Your husband?” Agnes scanned the lobby looking for Blake Warner. “Mr. Warner is not with you?”
“No. He’s away on business and I’m not sure when he’ll be joining me.”
“And how long will you be staying with us, Mrs. Warner?”
“It’s hard to say. I believe I shall start shopping for a residence straight away,” Meredith said, feeling uncomfortable but trying to hide it.
“Would you like to stay in Mr. Warner’s regular room? I believe it’s available.”
“No, actually, I prefer not to stay in that room.” Why would the woman think she would want to sleep in the room where he had no doubt had countless liaisons with other women? If she wasn’t trying to establish herself in society as Blake’s wife, she’d not go to any of his old haunts including this one.
“My trunks and my horse are to be brought from the train station shortly.”
“I’ll see to them as soon as they arrived.”
“Thank you. Oh, also my friend Donna Daily tells me you may be able to procure tickets to various entertainments.”
“I’ll have our concierge see to that for you.”
“Thank you. I’d like box seats if they’re available.”
Agnes wrote Meredith’s name in the book, retrieved the key and Meredith paid for the first week in advance.
“So, you are friends with Mrs. Daily. Are you from Missouri as well?”
“No, I only became acquainted with Mrs. Daily after we were married.”
“And have you been married long?”
“Mrs….?”
“Agnes Donovan,” she provided.
“Mrs. Donovan, it’s been a long journey and I’d like to go to my room and rest.”
“Of course.”
Meredith took the key and disappeared up the stairs.
Finally, Agnes Donovan thought. Surely, Mrs. X would pay for information that Mr. BW was a married man for her newspaper column. She reached for her pen and the inkpot and quickly jotted a note to Mrs. X in care of the newspaper.
A woman claiming to be Mrs. BW has arrived at the Regent Arms Hotel. Will you pay for the information?
She signed the note with her name, assigning herself the title of manager though in truth the title belonged to her husband and sent it off with a bellboy.
Two minutes after the bellboy returned from the newspaper building, a messenger from the paper carried a note back to her.
I knew the moment Meredith Warner stepped off the train from St. Joseph. Be sure to read my column on Sunday to find out about their extended courtship and romantic wedding.
Dressed for dinner in the same green silk dress Blake purchased for her, Meredith descended the grand staircase to the lobby of the elegant hotel. She pretended to be oblivious to the décor as if it was beneath her notice as she crossed to the dining room.
“Mrs. Warner,” Agnes Donovan called.
“Yes, Mrs. Donovan?”
“You’ve received a letter.”
Meredith couldn’t help but look surprised. Who could possibly be sending her a letter? Who even knew she was there? As she made her way to the desk, Agnes turned to locate the letter in the box.
“Oh, my mistake, Mrs. Warner, it’s not one letter but several.”
Meredith took the envelopes, placed them inside the novel that was to be her dining companion, then proceeded to the dining room. She did not open the envelopes until after she had ordered her dinner from a neatly dressed waiter.
She opened the smal
lest one first. Inside was a business card of a real estate agent and a note which read, “Mrs. Warner, Cloris Billingsham asked me to help you find a residence. I’ll meet you in the lobby tomorrow at two o’clock.”
The next envelope was an invitation to the Mayor’s Gala and the last was a note from Donna’s sister, Cloris Billingsham.
Meredith watched out the window as the carriage pulled off the tree-lined road into a walled property where three gardeners tended the manicured gardens of a palatial estate. Easily double the size of Donna’s home, the columned house sat on a multi-acre property. The driver stopped the carriage in front of the house and a liveried footman who had been posted under the portico, opened the carriage door and helped her alight. An impeccably groomed butler opened the front door. “This way, Mrs. Warner,” the starchy butler said with a highbrow English accent as he showed Meredith into an overly gilded parlor. It was all Meredith could do not to repeat his words and imitate his accent.
“Mrs. Billingsham will be with you in a minute.”
“Thank you.”
Meredith barely sat down on the sofa when Cloris Billingsham entered. She rose to her feet quickly when the lady of the house swept in followed by a maid carrying a tray of tea and a variety of miniature sandwiches.
“Mrs. Warner, how nice of you to be prompt.”
The maid’s head jerked up in her direction, a look of surprise on her face.
“Thank you, Margaret. Please make sure the staff is out of the common areas before you go back to the kitchen.” Cloris Billingsham waited for the maid to leave before she spoke. “This is rather awkward,” Cloris said, “but it’s always awkward when there’s nobody to make introductions.”
Cloris Billingsham wore a large rust and brown vertically striped hoopskirt Meredith. The woman’s facial features resembled Donna’s but her hair was brown, sprinkled with gray and her eyes were the same color as Blake’s but shaped more roundly.
“Yes, ma’am, I know what you mean. Please, call me Meredith.”
Cloris looked at her sideways. “That won’t do at all. You are under the misconception we are going to be friends. That is not the case, Mrs. Warner. In public, we will be polite and perhaps even friendly but in private, I am not going to pretend,” Cloris said. “Do you know how to serve tea?”
“Yes ma’am. Donna taught me.”
“Show me.”
Meredith crossed to the tea service and began making the tea the way Donna had shown her. “I don’t understand why you’ve invited me into your home if you’re dead-set against being friends.”
Cloris looked annoyed. “Of course you don’t, that’s part of why you’re here. You don’t understand anything at all. You and your husband have nothing to lose should the truth come out. My family and I do.”
“But Donna….”
“Leave her out of it. She’s too softhearted.”
Meredith measured out the tea and poured water from the kettle into the teapot. She covered it with the lid and towel while the tea steeped.
“You have no idea what this kind of scandal could cause to our family. Your idea of scandal is having the neighbors talk if you plant an odd number of turnip seeds.”
Meredith looked up from her task at the blatant insult. “If I’m so provincial, why bother with me at all?”
“Because if the truth is ever known, it is better that Blake already be viewed as an equal in society than as the piece of gutter-trash he is. If he is well-liked, people will be more forgiving. Likewise, if you are well accepted, it can only help his cause.”
“What do you like in your tea?” Meredith asked tightly.
“Two sugars and lemon.”
Meredith poured the tea through the strainer into the delicate teacups and prepared her sister-in-law’s tea according to her wishes.
“Do you drink?”
“Spirits?”
“Of course, I mean alcohol.”
Meredith remembered her only real experience with alcohol and how it contributed to where she was today. She had a naughty impulse to ask her if she was offering something a little stronger than tea but she honestly wanted to make a good impression on the woman.
“Not normally, no.”
“Good. At dinner parties take no more than a sip or two of your wine. They might give you a different wine with each course. It’s polite to taste the pairing but if you drink a glass with each course you will have consumed more than a bottle by yourself before the meal is finished. And remember, as petite as you are, a little bit of wine is going to feel like double what everyone else is feeling. My husband is a doctor. If you don’t believe me, ask him.”
Meredith carried the tea to her. “I’ll try not to embarrass you.”
“You will only be embarrassing yourself,” she said accepting the teacup and taking a sip. “I will make a few introductions but as I said, I am not inviting you into my circle of friends. It’s up to you to find your own place. It is not going to be an easy road for you; your husband’s philandering has seen to that. I only hope he stops or you will understand what my mother had to deal with. The only difference is, my father had one affair that was deep felt and yours will undoubtedly have many meaningless ones.
“Mrs. Billingsham, would you care for one of each?” Meredith asked coolly returning to the tray of finger sandwiches.
“Yes, that’s fine,” she answered. “I am not saying these things to hurt you. I have no doubt that you are undeserving of his treatment. But I also know you jumped into a marriage with a man you did not know and you cannot be overly surprised by your lot.”
Meredith was seething. She felt not only ambushed by the woman’s attack but trapped by her unfamiliarity of her environment and lack of transportation.
Cloris took the plate of sandwiches and nibbled at one. “I have not invited you here to argue with you over the indiscretion. I cannot change what happened. I can only work to minimize the damage if the truth comes out. I know you are blissfully ignorant about society and I’m going to use my standing and influence to ease you in as painlessly as possible. I may not be your friend but I am not your enemy either.”
Meredith took her tea and sat down on the settee.
“I’m sorry you feel obligated to do something you obviously don’t care to do.”
She waved aside the notion. “I have arranged for you to see three houses today. Pick the one you like the best. Blake has a trust fund from my father he never touches that will more than cover any of these homes.”
“He only allowed me access to thirty dollars a month.”
“How miserly. I assume Donna purchased your wardrobe and is financing your stay.”
“She said he will pay her back when he returns. He expected me to stay with Donna while we waited for the divorce but I have decided not to let him divorce me.”
Cloris’s face turned red as a beet and she shook her finger at Meredith. “I do not want to hear that word come out of your mouth again. That word is as vile as any blasphemy. There will be no undoing of vows. After you have chosen your house, I will give you the money and Blake can pay me back.”
“But what if…”
“Mrs. Warner, the moment you walked up to the desk at that hotel and told them you were married to Blake, you set in motion a waterfall. You cannot undo it.” Cloris reached in her pocket and pulled out a paper and handed it to her. “One of my friends writes the society column for the paper. I am in a unique position to feed her any information I choose on Blake. Society views him as I want them to.”
Meredith opened the paper and read Agnes Donovan’s note asking if they would pay for information about Meredith.
“Oh, my.”
“We will concoct a story to go into the paper on Sunday because I have no doubt the truth is quite scandalous.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t mean to be indelicate but is there any possibility you will have a child in less than nine months from your real wedding day?”
Meredith,
sipping her tea, choked. “No,” she said when she finally stopped coughing.
“Good, then you may keep your real anniversary,” she said removing a small tablet and pencil from a side table. “Where are you from?”
“Minnesota.”
“That’s one of those places where nearly everyone is Lutheran, isn’t it?”
Meredith nodded.
“Fine. We will say you met two years ago in Minneapolis and have been corresponding since. He has visited you several times with your parents chaperoning. You were married in the Lutheran Church and your father cried.”
“My parents were killed by Sioux. Donna called me one of his strays.” She cast her eyes down and bit her lip.
Cloris set down her refreshments and took Meredith’s hand.
“You poor dear. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” she patted her hand and then pulled back. “We can use that. You met in Minneapolis, corresponded for two years and when you wired him about your parents, he came immediately and married you. It’s a far better story than he deserves. But everyone will think it’s romantic.” Cloris frowned at Meredith. “You should be wearing black.”
“My parents would not have wanted me to wear black.”
Frowning, Mrs. Billingsham looked deep in thought for a moment. “I suppose it only makes sense Blake should marry someone like you. He cannot walk past a child on the street without giving them two bits.”
“I’m sure they remind him of himself.”
“Are you implying my father did not take responsibility for him?” The woman speared her with a hard look. Her mouth was drawn tight and her eyes narrowed at her.
Meredith drew back at her tone. “No, I was referring to after his mother died and Blake did not know where to find your father and he lived on the streets for several months.”
“Did he tell you that?” It sounded like an accusation.
M. Donice Byrd - The Warner Saga Page 19