The Maid's Quarters

by Holly Bush

  Albert was known by some of the patrons at the Windsor House and a few stopped by their table. She was introduced to a Mr. and Mrs. Donnecker, and a Mr. Evenlew, and smiled and was even able to respond to Mrs. Donnecker when she’d asked where Alice had gotten her cloak, as the color was beautiful on her, and the green buttons and gold roping were a perfect match. She’d been able to say it was made for her in Washington, eliciting raised eyebrows and other compliments from the woman.

  “So you have charmed Mrs. Donnecker,” Albert said with a laugh. “You are quite able to be comfortable wherever you find yourself, aren’t you, Alice?”

  “Thankfully she didn’t remember me as Mrs. Shelby’s maid, as I’d seen her a few times at Landonmore when she was entertained there.”

  Alice looked around the room after they’d eaten their meals, had a dessert and coffee, and pleasantly discussed many topics. What a treat the day had been! It was as easy to talk to Albert Donahue as it was to have someone serve her meal and wash the dishes, too. “I believe they will want to be setting the tables for dinner soon. I didn’t realize how long we have sat.”

  “I’m sorry,” Albert said, and laid down his napkin. “Perhaps you have an appointment I am keeping you from.”

  Alice shook her head. “Please do not apologize. I have had the most wonderful day I believe I have ever had. I cannot begin to tell you what a joy it has been.” Alice looked away then and put her hand in her lap. “How forward of me. I’m so sorry.”

  “No. You have not been forward. But your mother is most likely wondering where I’ve gone with you. I should be getting you home.”

  Alice leaned back on the soft pillows in the coach on the ride home and thought through every moment of the day she’d just spent, hoping to savor it and save the memories. How kind and caring Albert Donahue is, she thought to herself, and possessing a bright mind, and a forceful personality, as she recalled him speaking to Mr. Evenlew and Mr. Donnecker. He was clearly in charge of the conversation and guided it accordingly. How powerful and convincing was he? Perhaps very, she thought, as she recalled his business interests he’d told her about.

  The carriage rolled to a stop on Cherry Street, and he jumped down from his seat with the driver to help her out. He walked her to her door and turned to face her.

  “Would you dine with me on Saturday at my home? I am entertaining some business acquaintances and would like to have you join me as my special guest. You would be welcome to bring your mother if you would like. Or the wife of my business associate, Mrs. Gloria Gaines, would be happy to serve as your chaperone. They are newly married and close to us in age.”

  “It is very nice of you to ask me. I imagine my mother would be terribly uncomfortable, although I will ask her,” Alice said, and looked away. “Perhaps it would be unwise to be seen with me if this is an important dinner you are hosting.”

  Albert picked up her hands in his. “That is exactly why I’m asking you, because this is an important dinner with people who are critical to success on a project I’m involved with Stephen on, Mr. Gaines, that is. I would like you to attend. Please say yes.”

  “I have nothing appropriate to wear to a formal dinner party,” Alice said, fighting the excitement she felt to be a guest, a special guest, in his home.

  Albert raised his brows. “With a seamstress for a mother, I doubt that would be too much to overcome.”

  Alice laughed, and then looked up at him, suddenly shy, as if this acquiescence had more weight than she was accustomed to giving. “Yes, then. I will come,” she said softly.

  Albert’s nostrils flared and his eyes were triumphant. “Good. That is good. I look forward to seeing you, and will send my carriage for you on Saturday at six.”

  Chapter Four

  “Me?” her ma said. “Go to a fancy dinner?”

  “I’ve been invited and I want to go, and Albert, Mr. Donahue, says I should have a chaperone. There is a young woman he knows who would serve, but he said you are welcome.”

  “What a gentleman,” Mrs. McKinnell said quietly. “A real gent.”

  “I will go in your place, Maeve,” Mrs. Spretz said with a laugh, “if I can get the print ink out from under my nails!”

  “He doesn’t seem to care about that sort of thing. He introduced me to some fancy folk at the Windsor House without blinking an eye,” Alice said.

  “Of course he did,” Mrs. McKinnell affirmed. “With your beautiful hair and face, what man wouldn’t be halfway in love after meeting you? My Bobby will be disappointed, though. He’s had his ten-year-old heart set on marrying you ever since he first saw you.”

  “And as sweet a disposition as any young woman could have,” Mrs. Spretz added.

  “Clever, too,” her ma put in. “My girl knows her ciphering and can read better than Father Michael.”

  “Well, I don’t know about all of that,” Alice said. “But what shall I wear? Nothing I have is suitable for such a fancy evening.”

  Maeve held her hands to her face. “There’s a dress at work that someone ordered months ago and has never been back for. I’ve told Edith, the other seamstress, that it would be a perfect dress for my Alice. Dark blue velvet with cream satin trim. The only problem is it’s seven dollars without the fitting. Mighty steep, but the fabric is so fine.”

  “I have the money, ma,” Alice said. “Maybe I will go with you to the shop in the morning.”

  * * *

  The following morning Alice found herself on an elevated platform in front of six large mirrors, with her ma, Edith, and even the shop owner, Mrs. LaTrelle, pulling the fabric this way and that, and then pinning it in place. Suddenly she was seeing the dress of her dreams. The women stood back and admired their work.

  “’Twill be perfect,” Edith said. “Just you wait.”

  “It looks better on your Alice than it did on the woman who ordered it,” Mrs. LaTrelle said, and ran her fingers through Alice’s hair. “We’ll have to have someone style your hair, girl. A maid’s bun won’t do for this dress. And you’ll need shoes, too.”

  Maeve pulled down a box from a shelf and handed Alice a cream-colored satin slipper with a covered heel and a shiny buckle. “Here. Try these on. They will be perfect.”

  * * *

  Alice stood in front of the new mirror in her room on Saturday night. A young girl, a dresser in a well-to-do household, had just left after styling Alice’s hair into an elaborate knot at the crown of her head and curling the rest with a hot iron. Edith had come by with kohl for her eye lashes, sent by Mrs. LaTrelle, and lip rouge, too. She turned around and looked over her shoulder to see how the back of the dress looked as it draped over the high bustle. The fabric moved like silk and caught light and shadows, appearing to be multiple shades of blue. The neckline was scooped with a cream satin collar, edged in elaborate hand-tatted lace. The sleeves were long, ending in matching satin cuffs with clear glass buttons. Her mother and Mrs. McKinnell had helped her dress, and had oohed and aahed appropriately as she donned each undergarment and as her hair began to take shape in an elegant style.

  Alice could see her mother’s face over her shoulder as she turned to the mirror. “Don’t cry, Ma. You’ve made such a beautiful thing, this dress. You should be proud.”

  Maeve shook her head and dabbed her eyes. “Aye, I made a lovely garment, but it is nothing compared to seeing you, my daughter, as beautiful as any woman could ever be.”

  “True, Maeve,” Mrs. McKinnell whispered over Alice’s other shoulder. “You’re a vision, Alice, and that rich gent is going to be thunderstruck. He is going to ask you to marry him before the night is out. He’s smitten that one, I could see it the day he stopped those villains.”

  Alice looked up sharply. “No, that is not true. He is just a pleasant man, a kind one, in fact, but there is nothing special about me, and he will need a wife who can help him in his business.”

  Mrs. McKinnell laughed. “The last time a man looked at me like your Mr. Donahue looks at you, I was still Be
t Brindle, with no wrinkles on my face, a tiny waist, and a bosom to be envied. No, girl. That man was shot with Cupid’s arrow the first time he saw you, you mark my words.”

  Alice shook her head. “No. I’m in service, and he is an important businessman and rich as well.”

  “As if he cares one hoot about that,” Mrs. McKinnell said, and went to the window overlooking the front street. “His carriage is here. I’ll answer the door,” she said, and hurried to the steps.

  Alice picked up the small purse Mrs. LaTrelle had sent and fiddled with the string ties.

  “What is it?” Maeve asked, as she stepped close and clasped Alice’s hands. “What?”

  Alice shook her head and looked away.

  “Tell me, Alice.”

  What could she possibly say to her ma? There was shame enough in knowing she’d done it, let alone imagining about what her ma would think of her. She wasn’t fit for marriage other than to Phillip Ramsey, who lay with her and married Mary not three weeks later. She had long decided that the world of men brought pain, especially to someone as tarnished as she. She’d applied for a maid’s job at Landonmore the day after Mary’s wedding. When she took all her meals in her room and never smiled or spoke to the men working in that house they had left her be eventually.

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with Phillip Ramsey, does it?” her ma asked, shaking Alice out of her thoughts with a jolt.

  “Phillip Ramsey?” Alice repeated. Her mother knew?

  “Yes,” Maeve said. “Or was there someone special in Texas?”

  Alice shook her head. “No. There was no one special in Texas.”

  Maeve tilted Alice’s chin up. “There’s none of us, not one, that hasn’t done something they’ve not been proud of. But that doesn’t make a life, now does it? You’ve worked hard and learned and been everything I could have ever wished for in a daughter. Go enjoy yourself, Alice. God hands us burdens and tests, but he also offers us joy. Would be a sin to refuse some happiness for ourselves, wouldn’t it?”

  Mrs. McKinnell called up the steps. “They’re waiting for you, Alice.”

  Maeve smiled. “Go now, girl. Enjoy yourself. You’re every bit as worthy to be served as you are to serve. And Mrs. Spretz and Mrs. McKinnell and I are enjoying this too much for you to disappoint us.”

  Alice’s lip trembled. “I will enjoy myself this evening and pretend I am a princess. Will that do?”

  “Yes,” Maeve replied. “Now come. We don’t want to keep Mr. Donahue waiting, do we?”

  * * *

  Albert Donahue had waited all day to see Alice Porterman, and he found he was not a patient man when it came to this woman. He’d gone over the seating arrangement with Higgins and reviewed the menu and the wine service with Mrs. Erskine and the cook. He’d attempted to work on a proposal for a land purchase he was considering and made so many mathematical errors that Mr. Vickers stared at him oddly and asked if he felt well. And that was the problem. He didn’t feel well. Albert was terrified and exhilarated in the same moment, dreaming of Alice Porterman and preparing himself to be disappointed at her response.

  Often when he was a guest of a client or one of the bank’s gentlemen, he was seated beside a young woman, sometimes the daughter or sister of his host. They would converse, and he was able to comfortably, putting the woman at ease by focusing on her as she spoke and replying boisterously or quietly as the woman’s personality called for. But he remembered none of them by the following morning, or their sincere replies and sometimes blatant invitations. Albert knew he was considered eligible in Boston society, denying that family pedigree was the sole ingredient to success, and confirming what was true in every society—money mattered. And while a man or woman with little education, manners, or style would hardly be welcomed into these homes and boardrooms even with all the money in the world, a man from a working-class background, albeit a successful one, could succeed when his bank account was as large as Albert’s.

  But money did not matter in the case of Alice Porterman. In fact, he was fairly certain it was a mark against him. If he was to have any chance with her, it would be on his merits and those alone. After trying to concentrate on a book, he gave up, and instead prepared himself for the evening and proceeded to pace. How would he go about convincing Alice on such short acquaintance that they were meant for each other, and why was he so completely certain that they were?

  For himself, he knew why she was the woman for him. Any person strong enough to face an influenza outbreak and do the work of a nurse, and of a cook, and of a farm hand, even feeding chickens, she told him as she described the state of her employer’s ranch, had fortitude and honor. She’d been her mother’s champion for years and supported her and their family, putting aside what most young girls are seeking, and instead doing the right thing and persevering even when it was unpleasant, as it most certainly was when she visited Nyturn’s office and later his home. What a prize Alice was! How brave and fearless and selfless she was!

  At six thirty Gloria and Stephen arrived, and Albert was happy to be diverted from his current thoughts, as he anticipated every footstep from Higgins as Alice’s arrival. His staff must think he’d lost his mind, hanging about in the foyer staring up at the landscapes and portraits that hung there to pass the time.

  “Gloria,” he said, as he kissed her cheek. “You’re looking lovely this evening.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, as Albert shook her husband’s hand.

  “Good to see you, Albert,” Stephen said. “Perhaps we can close this deal over dinner. What do you think?”

  “Perhaps,” he countered, looking up over Stephen’s shoulder as Higgins went to the door. “Excuse me.”

  Albert walked toward the door as Higgins opened it, and there she stood, looking tentative and incredibly beautiful. “Miss Porterman. Alice. Welcome. Please come in.”

  “Thank you,” she said, after taking a breath and stepping into his foyer and allowing Higgins to take her cloak.

  She is mine, he thought, with all the boldness of man speaking in his thoughts only. Her hair framed her face in soft curls, drawing his eyes to her lips, full and slightly parted. She was wearing a blue gown, cut low enough that he could see cleavage and fitted to her figure in such a way as to make him ache to touch her. He could smell lilacs and watched as her bosom rose and fell with each breath.

  He looked in her eyes, and the foyer, his other guests, his staff, everything faded out of his vision. “You are so beautiful,” he said.

  Alice smiled shyly, blushed, and glanced away.

  “Oh, yes. These are my friends Mr. and Mrs. Gaines. Miss Porterman,” he said, turning to them.

  “Gloria and Stephen, Miss Porterman, as you are a friend of Albert’s,” Stephen said.

  Gloria eyed Albert with raised brows and turned to Alice with a smile and hooked her arm through hers. “We shall go restore our hair and pat our cheeks, won’t we, Alice? We will meet you gentlemen in the large drawing room?”

  Albert nodded, his eyes never leaving Alice’s face. “The first guest room is available for the ladies. Mrs. Erskine can show you up.”

  Gloria shook her head and turned them both in a whirl of crinkling fabrics. “No need to bother her. I know the way.”

  * * *

  Mrs. Gaines chattered about inconsequential things, asking questions that she could answer herself, and giving time for Alice, purposefully, Alice thought, to stop shaking. Alice stood near a massive carved wood cupboard once they were in the bedroom while Mrs. Gaines pinched her cheeks, applied lip rouge to already rosy lips, and looked at Alice in the reflection of the dressing table mirror.

  “So, Alice, how did you meet Albert?” Mrs. Gaines asked.

  “He is our landlord, Mrs. Gaines,” Alice replied.

  “I am not Mrs. Gaines. I am Gloria,” she said with a smile, and continued to pull strands of hair around her face, curling them around her finger as she went.

  Alice said nothing. She stared instead
at the fine furniture, all dark wood and shining with layers of polish. The bed was made up with a brightly printed flowered coverlet over white sheets with stacks of pillows standing just so against a carved headboard. Alice looked up to see Mrs. Gaines standing directly in front of her.

  “Were you in service, Alice?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I was a housemaid and then a personal maid to a senator’s wife.”

  “But you are not working tonight, are you?”

  Alice shook her head. “Well . . . no. I am a guest of Mr. Donahue’s.”

  “And I’m terrified for you that you will get up and try and serve the soup,” Mrs. Gaines said, and then covered her mouth with her hand to keep from laughing.

  Alice’s face colored. But the picture in her head that Mrs. Gaines conjured up with her description was silly enough to make her giggle, and then Mrs. Gaines laughed even more.

  The woman took Alice’s hands in hers. “You must relax. You must stop calling me Mrs. Gaines. I am Gloria. You are a guest and must behave so. Albert’s dinners are wonderful affairs, with much laughter and delicious food, and good company. Won’t you enjoy yourself?”

  “This is all very strange for me. I am afraid of embarrassing myself or Albert . . . Mr. Donahue, I mean. I just don’t belong here. I do not know why he asked me here.” Alice shook her head. “It is almost cruel.”

  Gloria led Alice to the bed and the two women sat, side by side. “I have known Albert all of my life, and there is not one drop of cruelty in his entire body. I grew up just a few doors away from him and his brother, Jack, and their grandfather. My mother was certain that I would marry one of them and I had always admired Albert, until I met Stephen, of course. But Albert treated me as he has treated all women over the years, with courtesy and respect,” she said, and turned to face Alice. “I have never seen him in such a state as I did when we arrived and had no idea what had caused it, until you walked through the door and I saw him look at you.”