She winced at the thought of the young ladies he escorted to parties. Never mind. It’s not as if he would ever think of her as anything more than a study partner. He probably knew nothing of her affection for him. How could he? There he stood, high on a mountain, a rich young man, and she a maid. And a Jewish one, at that. A great knot formed in her throat. This was no time to be silly, sentimental and lovesick. The game was up. Perhaps she could start over in Toronto or Vancouver, or even in New York. Perhaps she could find her own true love. She had overcome so many challenges throughout her life. This would be a new adventure.
She would have plenty of time to think about it, but the first order of business was to look after Emma. Balancing the tea tray, she closed the door of the kitchen and carefully locked it, thinking her calamity must have come from her carelessness. Emma must have seen the diary she wrote in Yiddish and had hidden in her room. Maybe it was Mr. Chadwick who found her out! How quickly one’s world could come crashing down in flames.
Forlorn and pale, Emma had calmed herself enough to speak. She set her teacup down and placed her hands together. “I have had time to think and I believe that I shall just throw caution to the wind and tell you my entire tale of woe.”
Maisie patted her arm. “Dear Emma,” she said with warmth. “You may tell me anything you wish, but first, I must speak. When I am done, then, you can say anything you like.”
“But, I really think it would help if I just told you straight out what is bothering me,” Emma implored.
“I do understand and believe me, this is the correct way to start. Please, Emma. Let me have my say.”
Emma was exhausted. She could muster no fight against the determined Maisie.
“What I’m going to tell you is not something I am ashamed of. However, I am ashamed and deeply sorry that I had to deceive you. I will ask you only to let me tell it all at one time, without interruption and then you can ask me any questions that you like. You have to agree to this.”
Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion.
Maisie took that as acceptance and plunged into her story. Unvarnished and truthful, her tale flowed from her heart. “I am a liar. I have lied to you and your family for many years. You see, my real name is Malka Zigman. I don’t know how you discovered that I am Jewish, but it’s true. When I first came to Ravenscraig I even lied about my age. I was fourteen. Just a few months older than you are now.”
Utterly shocked, Emma sat spellbound as she listened to Maisie detail the facts of her life. She explained that she had been born in London and that her parents had died of typhoid. She added that she was immune to typhoid not because she had any special magic, but because she’d had the illness herself as a child and had almost died from it. She talked of her family in Winnipeg and told her how they had come out of Russia. She went on to her desire to be a doctor, and her hopes that one day she would be accepted at university to study medicine. The only thing she held back was the fact that she had been secretly studying with Emma’s brother, James.
Emma sat silently, her eyes like saucers and color gradually taking over her pale cheeks until she looked like a china doll, with glistening eyes and pink cheeks against her dark hair. Finally a smile of relief appeared. Much to Maisie’s surprise, Emma flew into her arms and hugged her hard.
“Emma, I didn’t expect to see you smiling at the end of my story,” said Maisie. “I am totally mystified. You don’t hate me?”
“Maisie, I love you like an auntie, or the sister I don’t have. If you can share that truth with me then I know I can trust you with anything. Maisie, how you have suffered.” A frown creased her brow. “I am so ashamed and so very sorry that I have said things that I’m sure have hurt you. I know now that there were many times that I repeated nasty things that would have been insulting and painful to you. I will never again in my life say anything that would be hurtful to a Jewish person. I had no idea. Can you ever forgive me?”
Only then did Maisie realize that she had completely misread her predicament. “Of course I forgive you. You mean you didn’t know I was Jewish until just now?”
“Not until this moment.”
“Why didn’t you stop me?”
“You said not to.”
“Oy!”
“What does that mean? Oy. I like that.”
“And I thought you were upset because you had found me out!”
“Maisie, your being Jewish has nothing to do with my problem. It doesn’t matter to me one bit that you are Jewish. If anything, I admire you more. You took charge of your life. You made it what you wanted it to be. Not many people are strong enough to do that.”
Maisie sat speechless, her mouth hanging open. She had blundered into her own demise.
“Maisie. Please, don’t worry. I will not tell a soul about what you have told me. I promise. Nothing will change at Ravenscraig. My parents will never know.”
Maisie refilled Emma’s teacup and passed it to her. Her hands shook so hard the cup rattled in the saucer. “Thank you, Emma. You are a remarkable young woman. And now that I’ve thrown myself overboard, why don’t we deal with your real secret. Maybe I can help.”
“I’m sure you can, Maisie. You will know what to do. You are the smartest and bravest person I ever met.”
At this Emma spilled her story about Elliot’s looming disaster in Palm Beach and his need to be shielded from their parents. Maisie immediately came up with a solution that Emma knew would work.
Chapter Forty-One
Palm Beach
February 2, 1905
Maisie stepped off the train, and felt as though she’d awoken in a magical land. As much as she had read about Florida, she was still amazed by the change in climate. Could it possibly have been only three weeks since they left the cruel bite of winter behind in Manitoba? She felt transported in time from the frozen streets of Winnipeg, entombed in winter white, to this lush, fragrant tropical nest of green, welcoming her with songbirds and the alluring sound of the ocean. It truly was a paradise with perfect weather. Just feeling the warmth of the sun on her face was enough to make things right with the world. Everywhere she looked, she was surrounded by green hedges and neatly clipped shrubbery dotted with brilliantly colored blossoms. Tall swaying palms reached up into the bright blue sky, as if waving hello. Maisie was instantly convinced that there was no finer place in the world to be. As she stood at the train station in Palm Beach she couldn’t help but gawk at it all.
Mr. and Mrs. Willows had already left the station and gone on to Whitehall in a small wicker cart pulled by a man. It was a rickshaw and was apparently considered a charming part of the experience of visiting Palm Beach. Mr. Willows was delighted with the arrangement, as Maisie could plainly see. Mrs. Willows, on the other hand, seemed completely thrown off by the thought of a man working as a mule, but ultimately she relented and they were quickly on their way to the Flagler mansion, leaving Maisie to attend to the luggage with Sam, one of the Whitehall servants.
Sam was friendly, polite and well schooled in his duties. He stood well over six feet tall and had a booming voice and a brilliant smile. At first, Maisie couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was the tallest man she’d ever met and the first Negro she had ever seen.
With the luggage all accounted for, two trunks for Mr. Willows and three trunks and two large traveling wardrobes, along with an assortment of smaller cases for Mrs. Willows, Sam made quick work of loading the wagon. Then he helped Maisie climb up onto the seat next to him. She had an endless supply of questions for her agreeable companion, and Sam happily helped with the names of plants and trees she had never imagined existed.
“That be a Royal Palm tree, up there. Tall and smooth like that. When we rounds this next bend in the road they is gonna be a great line of ’em takin’ us right up to Whitehall. My, my, it is somethin’ to behold, chile, the first time you sees it. Why doan y’all jes close your eyes, and Sam is gonna tell ya when to open ’em up when we is at the gate.”
“
Sam, I don’t think I can close my eyes for one second. I don’t want to miss one thing. I can’t imagine that I am not dreaming,” Maisie told him.
Sam laughed with gusto and started to whistle a tune. Suddenly they were upon the great house, and Maisie’s first glimpse of Whitehall took her breath away.
“This is not a home, it’s a palace!” she hooted, unable to contain her excitement. “I hope to remember every detail to recall later.”
“Nah. Now doan you be doin’ no worryin’ bout it, Miss Maisie. Ah kin make sure y’all gits a pitchah of the place. They gots these special ones made up for the guests and Ah kin get one of ’em for y’all. They’s called postcards.” Sam delighted in her company. “They got so many diff’rint kinds a rooms in that house you cain’t even think what else they might a missed.”
“Have you seen every room at Whitehall?” Maisie knew she was being nosy but couldn’t contain her curiosity. Ravenscraig was a grand residence, but Whitehall looked at least ten times its size.
“Not all, but mos’ of ’em, yas, I have, mm-hmm.” Sam nodded. “I gits to hep with the heavy work in gittin all of ev’rythin shined up for Mistuh Flagler in the month before he git down here at the start a January. Folks like Mistuh Flagler does lots a entertainin, a course. Right inside that front door is a big hall to be sho to impress ev’rybody who come in the house. You could fit a whole bunch a reg’lar houses in that hall, with the rooftops an’ all not even comin up to the ceilin’ in there. And the ceilin itself is something you cain’t even ’magine. It’s like the sky, but with angels and such all painted up in the clouds up there. You think you is lookin right in at heaven’s gates, when you lookin up at it.” He started to chuckle. Ah done fell flat on my face, tripped over my own feet, the first time Ah been in that room. Jes couldn’t take muh eyes off a them angels.”
Maisie laughed, hoping she would see the great hall ceiling herself.
“Tell me more about the other rooms, Sam.”
“Lemme see. They also has a breakfast room, a sun room, a special fancy parlor for Mrs. Flagler, a music room, a billiards room where the gempmums has they smokin and chewin tabacca. And jes waits till you see the big ballroom. It’s all gold and filled with mirruhs from one end t’other just like some fancy place over in Paris they say. Oh, yas, and it got great huge crystal chandeliers. Whasat place called?” He scratched his head. “Lemme think. Yeah, I got it. They say it’s jes like Voors-eye, in France. Thas what they’s sayin. There’s nuf room to have everyone in town in that room for a dancin party all at one time. Ah’s been in it muhself, cause they was short a folks for the Cakewalk, thas a special kinda dance we colored folks does for the fancy guests when Mistuh Flagler asks. Mostly it’s down over at the Breakers, that hotel a his over thar, but once in a while he ask the servants to pick up they heels to entertain y’all.
Maisie was enchanted with the way Sam spoke and hoped to remember every word from the likable driver.
“Bein you is trav’lin with Mr. Flagler’s guests,” Sam went on, “you is gittin your place to sleep up on the third floor so to be convenient for your Mistuh and Missus in the case they needs y’all. Ya see, the Whitehall servants is kept runnin all day long in they own work and Miss Flagler, she like if her comp’ny brings his own servants, ya see. She wants em to have it easy to bring ’em so thas why you up on the third floor.”
“Do all the servants stay in the house?”
“No, ma’am. Rest of us is in places nearby the house. Me, Ah stay out in the barn with the fellas who is lookin after the garden and such.”
The horses trotted along energetically in the warm sun, making their way up the magnificent drive. The three story house was as large as a grand hotel. It was brilliant white, adorned with enormous pillars lined majestically along the front. As they drew closer, they passed through an ornate iron gate. Marble statues were placed along the road to steps that led up to a fountain, and beyond that stretched the paved pathway to the porch and the front door. Black iron filigree delicately covered the massive doors of the main entrance. From a distance, they appeared covered in lace. Sam guided the horses into a turn along a side road that would take them along to the back of the house and the servants’ entrance.
“Us is goin in the back way, course, and you ain’t gonna see that front hall right off, but when ya do, ya’ll be thinkin you somehow landed in what they call a museum. Wait’ll ya see what kind of stuff they put in there. My, oh, my. It all rich folks stuff. Ain’t got no use but to be looked at and to set folks to wonderin jes what they might standin there lookin at. They’s clocks and tables and all manner uh stuff you find nowhere but mebbe castles. Thas what they say, anyway. Me, Ah nevuh been in no museum nor in any castle. This be the only castle I know.” He laughed again.
“It must be something to live here. Do the Flaglers enjoy the summer weather?”
“Summuh?” Sam turned to her and snickered. “Watchu talkin bout? No white folks like these uns is stayin here in summuh. Jes farmers and us local folks. No suh, they ain’t up for the heat in the summuh,” he laughed boisterously. “Not this kinda folks. They be meltin their skin right offa they bones, Ah think.” At this he laughed so hard he slapped his knee.
“Well if they don’t stay in summer, how much time do they spend at Whitehall?”
“Miss Maisie, if you kin b’lieve it, this big ole house has folks in it for jes two months. Then theys all packed up an gone till nex’ time. Thas it. House is empty but for two housekeepers who keeps a eye on it and make sho it don’t get no dust on them old paintins and statues an’ all.”
“Two months?” Maisie was astonished. “They have all this money invested in a house they stay in for two months?” She wondered how many people could go to university to become doctors on the money invested in Whitehall.
“In Decembuh, long ’bout three weeks before Mistuh Flagler come down heah, the house manager and the chef gits in and gits it all set up with servants and food and all what you need to be comftubble if you is white folks that needs this much luggage to be happy.” He thrust his thumb over his shoulder at the heavy load behind them.
“I can’t believe it. Two months. You have to see how people live where I come from.”
“An doan I knows it. Poor folks is poor and rich folks is rich. But, thas they way they do it down here, chile. Thas what they’s callin the season. Two months. For all us who’s workin here, most gits about three months or sometimes four months of workin time and bein’ here to look after them and closin’ her up after the Flaglers is on their way up north agin. Ah’s lucky ’cause Ah gits to work in heppin with the gardens all through the summuh.”
“Speaking of servants. Do you happen to know the chef?”
“Met him once. Chef La Chance. He seems a little high-strung, kinda like a young colt. But, Ah guess it’s likely account a he bein’ from France. He act a bit like he got some fancy airs, Ahguess, but he seem to be all right with everybody. They say he sho can cook.”
Maisie carefully placed the pink organza dressing gown in the armoire and gently closed the door.
“Everything is in order, Mrs. Willows.”
“Thank you, Maisie, I’m sure I will be able to find everything I need,” Mrs. Willows dropped into a chair and let out a small sigh. “I do hope I brought enough clothing. I was counting on only three changes each day, but I think I underestimated my needs for afternoon excursions. Whatever does one wear to watch men wrestle with alligators? Perhaps Rupert won’t mind if I sit out that little gem of local lore.” Mrs. Willows caught herself thinking out loud and drew a hand to her mouth. “Please, forgive me. I must be more tired than I thought, Maisie. I would just die for a cup of tea. Could you find that maid, what is her name? Luellen, is it?”
“I think she’s helping Mrs. Wilcox get settled down the hall. I will be happy to go round to the kitchen and bring the tea for you, mum,” Maisie said with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. “Should I also bring refreshments for Mr. Willows?”
“Where on earth do you find all of this energy? I can barely keep my eyes open. I’m sure that Mr. Willows will not be lacking for refreshments. He’s off with our host, discussing business, no doubt, but, yes, do please bring me a tray. Thank you, Maisie.”
As Maisie found her way to the servants’ stairs she noted the plush carpeting and rich paintings in the second floor hallway. Mr. Flagler had seen to every comfort imaginable, and his experience as a hotelier must have influenced his design choices for the mansion. Every guest room had its own ensuite bathroom. Whoever heard of such a thing?
She ran down the stairs to the kitchen at the rear of the house. Two kitchen maids were busy scrubbing vegetables and carving them into animal shapes while a third was pulling fresh bread from the oven. Maisie introduced herself and peeked over their shoulders to see if she could spot Mr. Elliot. He was nowhere in the kitchen. She asked if she could put a tea tray together for Mrs. Willows. A pretty young maid with dark auburn hair wiped her hands and welcomed Maisie with a big smile.
“I’m Clarisse. Let me put the tray together for your lady. Mostly we’re accustomed to iced tea in the South. I’m from New Orleans, myself. But, I do know how to prepare hot tea,” she said, anxious to show off her new training. “Chef says that the guests from the North always drink their tea hot, and I was taught to make it right.”
“I understand that your chef is quite well regarded.”
“He’s dreamy,” answered Clarisse with a glow. “But if you think you have a chance with him, you are mistaken. There is a line-up of girls hoping to catch his eye, and not all of them are staff members!”
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