by Jodi Thomas
Captain Newcastle’s eyes spoke the truth.
The door banged open and he pulled away. It was Mrs. Firestone.
“I’ve come for the uniforms,” Mrs. Firestone said, eyebrow arching. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No, ma’am,” Captain Newcastle said, and bowed to Mrs. Firestone.
Birdie noticed the captain didn’t offer Mrs. Firestone any explanation.
He did keep his cool in heated situations.
“I hope you have a wonderful time at the dance tonight,” Captain Newcastle said to Birdie, taking her hand and kissing it. The captain seemed anxious to have some further words with Birdie, but the moment had passed.
“Let me help you with these uniforms,” the captain said to Mrs. Firestone as he gathered the four dresses in one sweep. He gestured to Mrs. Firestone to lead the way. “After you.”
Birdie stood in the middle of the room, slowly letting out the breath she seemed to have been holding forever. She shook her head and told herself very sternly that romantic dreams were not for her. She gathered her sewing kit and headed out to fix the dresses for those girls to whom the dreams were offered.
Chapter 10
Detective Hilbrand stomped his feet in the snow, trying to get some warmth back into his toes. He had stationed himself behind the closed feed store, where he could get a view of the entire main street that ran between the St. Nicholas Hotel and the entrance to the Jingle Bobs and Belles Ball. This way, he would be able to spot Birdie when she left the hotel. While he was usually very careful to avoid the lawmen in any given town, Detective Hilbrand decided to take Sheriff Holden into his confidence. After all, none of the detective’s strategies had panned out so far. Perhaps a new approach in a new frontier was the way to go. His very enlightening conversation with Sheriff Holden had given him every confidence that his plan would go smoothly.
From time to time his sight line was obscured by the snow wafting through town. Carriages had been letting off men and women dressed in their finery at the entrance to the St. Nicholas for over an hour. He looked at his watch. It was almost nine o’clock. The servants at the hotel would be finishing up their last-minute duties and would soon be heading over to the other end of town.
He would be ready.
* * *
“We haven’t had any requests in over an hour. I think we’ve finished for the night,” Miss Quigley said to Birdie. “You should get ready for the dance.”
“Are you sure?” Birdie asked. “I’m happy to stay.”
“No, you go ahead. I’m sure we won’t get any more emergencies at this hour.”
A loud banging on the door made both women jump.
“Just a minute,” Miss Quigley said, striding to the door and opening it.
A young woman with flushed cheeks stood on the other side of the door. Birdie didn’t recognize her.
“Yes, Miss Adelaide?” Miss Quigley asked.
Birdie remembered this was the young woman who didn’t have space in her room for three hatboxes.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Miss Adelaide said. “Everyone has beautiful headpieces at the ball!”
Miss Adelaide strode into the room. She started looking frantically around. She didn’t look at Birdie; it was as if she wasn’t even there.
At first, Birdie was annoyed, but then she smiled. She had spent the last two years trying to be invisible. She certainly shouldn’t hold it against someone if she’d accomplished her goal.
“The headpieces aren’t here,” Miss Quigley said. “I took them to the trunk room.”
“That is certainly not helpful,” Miss Adelaide said.
“Why don’t you go up to your room?” Miss Quigley said as she steered Miss Adelaide out the door. “I’ll retrieve the headpieces and meet you there. It will only take me a minute.”
Miss Adelaide and Miss Quigley headed out the door, but Miss Quigley turned back to Birdie.
“Go ahead and get dressed now,” Miss Quigley said. “I’m sure I’ll be back before you’re ready and I’ll see you off.”
“But what if—” Birdie started, wanting to offer her assistance, but Miss Quigley put up a finger.
“You get ready now,” Miss Quigley said. “You deserve a good time.”
As Miss Quigley closed the door, Birdie could hear the orchestra strike up a waltz she knew. It was a slower version of waltzes she’d heard and danced to at home. Americans called it the “Boston Waltz.” She loved the unhurried tempo. So full of romance. Birdie pretended Captain Newcastle put his arm around her waist, ready to lead her in a dance. She quickly put all thoughts of Captain Newcastle out of her mind and danced over to her beautiful dove-gray dress. She was determined to have a good time tonight, captain or no captain.
The door to the sewing room flew open. An eruption of mauve satin, lace, and trim exploded into the room.
It was a breathless Charlotte.
“Thank goodness you’re still here!” Charlotte said.
Birdie still had the dove-gray dress on the hanger. With everything it would entail getting out of her uniform and into the dove-gray dress, it wasn’t as if Charlotte almost missed her.
“Is everything all right?” Birdie asked.
“Everything is perfect,” Charlotte said. “Father is too under the weather to go to the ball!”
Clearly, this news made Charlotte very happy, but to say “I’m so happy to hear this!” sounded downright rude. She knew if she just kept silent, Charlotte would fill the empty space. She didn’t have to wait long.
“Don’t you see?” Charlotte continued. “If Father isn’t at the ball, it means I don’t have to be either!”
Birdie was now at a complete loss for words. Nothing Miss Charlotte was saying made sense.
“What do you mean you don’t have to go to the ball?”
“I can go to the Jingle Bobs and Belles Ball! I can be with Joey.”
“I’m not sure your father would think much of that idea.”
“Of course not! That’s why it’s the perfect plan! He’ll never know.”
“But what about Captain Newcastle?”
“Oh, I don’t give a hoot about Captain Newcastle. And he doesn’t give a hoot about me. Why should he? We’ve only said a few words to each other since I’ve been here.”
Birdie tried not to be excited about this news.
“Besides,” Charlotte continued, “Captain Newcastle has his pick of any girl at the ball. He’ll be just fine.”
Birdie’s hopes plummeted. Of course, Charlotte was right.
“I should get dressed,” Birdie said, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go to the ball with me, but . . .”
“You’re right about that. Going with you to the ball is a very bad idea,” Charlotte said, reaching out and taking the dove-gray dress from Birdie and appraising it. “But going to the ball in your place is a fantastic idea.”
“That is insanity, Miss Charlotte. Just insanity.”
“I’ve thought the whole thing through. We’re the same size! I’ll wear your dress and go to the Jingle Bobs and Belles Ball, and you wear my gown and go upstairs to the Grand Ball. It will be perfect.”
“I think your father might not be the only one with a fever.”
“Think of it, Birdie. I can go be with my Joey and you can try your luck with Captain Newcastle.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed your feelings for the captain,” Charlotte said.
“My feelings?” Birdie gasped.
“You turn red as a beet whenever he’s around. You’re like an open book.”
Birdie could feel herself turning red as a beet just discussing him.
* * *
Dangerous Jack knew he should limit his drinking if he was planning on lifting wallets and jewels from the crowd at the ball. But Mrs. Firestone would drive even the most devout man to the bottle. Every time he turned around, she was at his heels.
/>
He just had to be patient. He would only be at the Grand Ball for another hour or so, then over to the dance across town to conclude his business in this backwater town. Dallas would be nothing but a memory in a few short hours. Then it would be off to Houston to unload the spoils of the evening. He already had a diamond necklace and a ruby bracelet in his pocket. If the evening continued to go as planned, he’d be a very rich man by the end of the night.
He let his mind wander to the possibility of life after Dallas—back to the East Coast? Maybe head west to California?
Whether he would be alone or have a companion remained to be seen. He reflexively patted his pocket to make sure his gun was there.
He caught Olive Firestone’s eye. She gave him a bold look. He looked right back at her, knowing he’d have to tread carefully. One whiff of an interest in her daughter, no matter how passing, would have Mrs. Firestone tossing him out on his ear. Mrs. Firestone appeared from the kitchen. She gave him a wide smile and headed toward him. Olive looked away quickly. She was as good at playing the game as he was.
Maybe if things played out differently, he could have explored the possibilities of Olive a little further. Although having to deal with Mrs. Firestone would slow any man down. No wonder the poor girl was single.
Mrs. Firestone threaded through the crowd, headed right at him. Jack picked up a glass of half-drunk whiskey from his crowded tray of discarded drinks and downed it.
* * *
Birdie, dressed in the marvelous mauve gown and mobcap, and Charlotte, wearing the demure but lovely dove-gray dress, stared at themselves in the looking glass.
“This is never going to work,” Birdie said.
“What could go wrong?”
“What could go wrong?” Birdie squeaked. “Your father could decide to check on you and come to the ball after all. Joey might not arrest you, but he could arrest me as an imposter. I might be needed to sew up a ripped petticoat and I would be nowhere to be found. Or worse, found dancing at the ball. You might—”
“Oh, all right, something could go wrong. But think how fun this will be. Not doing what we’re supposed to be doing. Taking life into our own hands for once. We just need to be a tiny bit brave.”
Birdie, in her own beautiful mauve creation, looked at Charlotte. Maybe she had a point. Birdie had mustered all her bravery over the past two years, but it had been because she was living in fear and had no choice. What would it feel like to take a chance just for fun?
She decided to find out. Not quite trusting her voice, she nodded to Charlotte.
Charlotte stood behind Birdie and regarded her in the mirror.
“You can’t wear that awful cap to the ball, you know,” Charlotte said.
Birdie started to protest, but Charlotte was too quick for her. She pulled the cap off Birdie’s head. Her fingers flew to her lips. Birdie stood frozen as carrot-red hair tumbled past her shoulders.
The door banged open and Miss Quigley strode in, looking at a squashed hatbox in her hands.
“Miss Adelaide decided on a headpiece and has returned, triumphant, to the ball,” Miss Quigley said.
She looked up and saw the two young women. Two children caught with their hands in the cookie jar could not have looked guiltier. Miss Quigley didn’t appear the least ruffled that she was staring at Birdie, magnificent in mauve, with her red hair cascading down her back, and the flamboyant Charlotte in subtle gray.
“I never even showed her this one,” Miss Quigley said, addressing the two well-dressed little elephants in the room. “Which is a good thing, Birdie, since it will go perfectly with your gown.”
“Well, isn’t that nice,” Charlotte said with far too much enthusiasm. “Well, I’d better be going.”
She gave Birdie a quick hug, grabbed the mobcap and Birdie’s shawl, and flew out of the room.
Birdie closed her eyes as Miss Charlotte escaped the room.
“I’m not sure how to explain . . .” Birdie began.
“No need,” Miss Quigley said, prying the lid off the crushed hatbox.
Miss Quigley pulled some bobby pins from her own hair and began to work the delicate headpiece into Birdie’s curls.
“I can only assume Miss Charlotte wants to go to the Jingle Bobs and Belles Ball to be with Sheriff Holden and you are going to try your luck with Captain Newcastle—or something like that,” Miss Quigley continued.
“Exactly like that.”
It appeared the discussion was over. Birdie stood still, watching in the looking glass while Miss Quigley worked her magic, weaving Birdie’s hair into beautiful soft waves framed by the headpiece. She looked at Miss Quigley, realizing that “magic” was exactly what Miss Quigley seemed to be. She shook her head. She sounded like a child, believing in a fairy godmother.
But Miss Quigley always seemed to know exactly what was going on, what exactly needed to be fixed and exactly how to fix it.
Was it just a coincidence?
Birdie shook her head. If she’d learned anything in these two years, it was that fairy tales did not exist.
“Oh no!” Birdie exclaimed. “Don’t I need an invitation to go to the ball?”
“Yes,” Miss Quigley said absently, focusing on the headpiece. “Stand still!”
“But I have to get Miss Charlotte’s invitation or I won’t be able to go!”
Birdie had been of two minds as to whether or not attending the ball was a good idea. But now that it appeared out of reach, she’d decided she had to go.
Miss Quigley stood back and examined Birdie.
“You look more than presentable,” Miss Quigley said.
From the head seamstress, this was high praise. Birdie nodded her thanks.
“I really have to chase after Miss Charlotte,” Birdie said.
“That would be a very bad idea,” Miss Quigley said. “Miss Charlotte is probably halfway across town by now. You can’t afford drawing attention to either one of you.”
Birdie knew Miss Quigley was right. She sank down on a chair and buried her head in her hands. She should have known better than to get her hopes up for a crazy scheme. Would she never learn?
She heard Miss Quigley moving around the room and heard the familiar sound of the head seamstress unlocking her mysterious box of treasures. Birdie looked up to see Miss Quigley lift the satin-bound invitation out of the box, then close the lid.
“I think we can solve that little problem,” Miss Quigley said, handing Birdie the invitation.
Birdie stared at the parchment in her hand. She looked up at Miss Quigley, who stared back at her impassively.
“How did you—” Birdie began, but Miss Quigley cut her off.
“It’s almost ten o’clock,” Miss Quigley said. “The dance will be in full swing by now. You’d better go.”
“You’ve been so kind. I don’t know how to thank you, Miss Quigley, for everything,” Birdie said.
“Have a good time,” Miss Quigley said, brushing aside the compliment. “Tonight belongs to you, Birdie. Make the most of it.”
Miss Quigley guided Birdie to the door and gently pushed her into the hallway, closing the door between them. Birdie stared at the door, not believing what was happening.
Birdie took a deep breath, picked up her skirts, and stood tentatively at the doorway.
Maybe the magic of Christmas was real, she wondered.
The night seemed so full of possibilities.
Birdie turned back. She wanted to hug Miss Quigley, but the head seamstress was already sewing by the fire. Birdie headed down the hall to the staircase, toward the music. At the other end of the hall, she glimpsed a woman in a beautiful pink gown, ribbons floating down the back. Birdie ducked into a doorway. She knew that dress! She’d reinforced the ribbons for the local lady they called the “Texas Princess.”
What was she doing in the servants’ quarters?
Birdie’s instincts as a helpful servant got the better of her and she stepped back into the hallway, ready to be of assistance
to the obviously lost lady. But the lady must have found her way. The hallway was empty.
Birdie headed toward the music, coming from the ballroom above.
* * *
Detective Hilbrand was still standing in the snow. The carriages going to the Grand Ball had slowed to a trickle. People bundled against the snow coming around the corner from the servants’ entrance and headed in the opposite direction had also subsided. He wondered if somehow he had missed Birdie.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
He looked up and saw a woman appear on the front steps of the St. Nicholas, dressed exactly as Mrs. Firestone had described.
This girl is brazen, the detective thought. Doesn’t even use the servants’ entrance. He moved closer as the woman, dressed in dove gray with a mobcap and a shawl, made her way down the stairs. The detective noticed her body language. Even at a distance, he could tell she was nervous and didn’t make eye contact with anyone.
This had to be her.
Could I really be at the end of this journey? he wondered as he followed at a safe distance.
The night seemed so full of possibilities, he thought grimly. The problem with his job was—a successful mission never really made anybody happy.
Something to think about on Christmas Eve.
Chapter 11
Kerosene-fueled chandeliers cast a warm golden glow over the ballroom. Beautifully dressed men and women glided around the dance floor as Birdie stepped lightly into the room. She expected the man at the entrance to question her about her invitation. She recognized him as one of the hotel’s servants—they had passed each other dozens of times over the last few weeks. But he did not seem to know her.
She froze as she caught a woman’s eye. It was Mrs. Fitzgerald from room 200. Birdie had sewn new stays into her corset two days ago. But Mrs. Fitzgerald didn’t seem to recognize her either.
Birdie knew she’d been wise never to show her hair.
Everyone remembered her hair.
She stepped timidly into the room.
“Where have you been all evening?” came a voice from behind her.
She recognized it as Captain Newcastle’s. Although he was the reason she was here, now that the dream had become a reality, she wasn’t sure what to do. Her feet seemed to want to run out of the room. But she realized if she bolted, she might be discovered in her deception. Not to mention Miss Charlotte’s and even Miss Quigley’s subterfuge. She’d hurt the people she loved—something she vowed never to do again.