C
HAPTER
9
W
hen I returned to Sir Arthur’s house, all I wanted to do was run up the back stairs, get to my room without being seen, and change my clothes. None of that happened. Instead, as I came out of the kitchen, before I could even get to the stairs, Ida was in the doorway, blocking my way.
“Oh,
mein Gott!
” she declared. “What happened to you,
ja?
”
“It’s a long story and I need to change quickly. The Baineses will be here any minute.”
“Too late,
meine Freundin.
They’re already here
, ja. He
wasn’t pleased you weren’t here to greet them. I was sent to find you.”
“Oh, I better be quick.”
“
Nein, nein.
You have to come with me now.” She took my arm, as if she expected me to dash out the door and escape Sir Arthur’s reprimand, and pulled me toward the parlor door. “If you don’t come, it will be my trouble,
ja?
”
“All right, all right.” I tossed the borrowed gloves and cloak over Ida’s outstretched arm but didn’t know what to do with my boots. “This is ridiculous, Ida. I can’t go in there with boots on and looking like this.” I attempted to repin my hair in place without the aid of a mirror.
“But you must,” Ida said, helping me with my hair. “You go in and I’ll get your shoes. You can change later,
ja?
”
Ida escorted me to the parlor and knocked. “I found Hattie,
Herr,
” she announced. As I entered the room, my worst fears were confirmed. Sir Arthur was not alone. Lieutenant Triggs and his wife turned at my approach. A tall, handsome, impeccably dressed man in his fifties with a full head of silvery-blond hair and a short, tidy mustache stood leaning against the wall next to the fire. He winked at me. I blushed, confused until he did the same thing a moment later when he was looking elsewhere. I’d come to recognize it as a nervous twitch in his eye. But what did he have to be nervous about?
Also in the room, seated on the settee closest to the fire, chatting about the barely palatable breakfast she had been served on the train, was a woman in her early fifties, who, though still attractive, must have been striking in her youth. Her light brown hair showed not a single streak of gray; her complexion was creamy and flawless except the few wrinkles etched into the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her day dress of cream and pink printed silk was exquisite, expensive, and probably mail-ordered from Paris or New York. She didn’t smile when she saw me. Nor did she stop talking.
“Don’t you agree, Mrs. Triggs?” Before Mrs. Triggs had a chance to reply, the woman continued. “And the food they served was simply atrocious. The omelet was cold, the salmon was slimy—” She glanced at me again. She screamed. “Oh my God, Sir Arthur! The filthiest vagrant creature I’ve ever seen is standing in your doorway!” She turned her head away. Sir Arthur started when he saw me. “John, Sir Arthur, somebody, please make it go away.”
“My, my, Miss Davish, you look like Saint George battling the dragon. Did the dragon win this time?” Lieutenant Triggs laughed at his own joke.
“Gentlemen, ladies, if you will excuse me for a moment.” With a scowl Sir Arthur indicated that he wanted me to precede him out of the room. The moment he closed the door behind him, he turned on me.
“Hattie, what the devil have you been doing this morning?” he scolded, scrutinizing my torn and filthy dress and wet rubber boots. “As you could see, our guests have arrived. And yet you were nowhere to be found, only to appear in my parlor as an unkempt vagabond. I don’t need to tell you how disappointed I am. I’ve come to expect more from you than this. I demand an explanation.”
“I’m sorry, sir, my appearance is unacceptable, even to me, but with good cause, I assure you.”
“And what would that be?”
“Gertie Reynard fell through the ice on the river this morning and I was the only one about to help. I was running late and didn’t have time to change.”
Sir Arthur stared at me for a moment and then roared with laughter. “My God, Hattie Davish, is there nothing you can’t do?” Then he sent me upstairs to change. Once presentable again, I returned to the parlor.
“. . . And I’d be more than happy to help with the—” The woman by the fire was cut off mid-sentence by Sir Arthur.
“Ah, there’s the secretary I know. Hattie, I’d like to introduce you to our new guests,” Sir Arthur said, indicating the man by the fire and the woman who had been talking when I came in. “Mr. and Mrs. John Baines, my secretary and personal assistant, Miss Hattie Davish. Despite her awkward appearance earlier, she is extremely capable and will aid you in anything you need here during your stay.”
“Charmed,” John Baines said, tipping his head. His eye twitched again.
His wife, with a blank expression on her face, said, “Good. As I didn’t bring my maid and yours did clean up well, I’ll need help unpacking. And I’d like a bath drawn before ten.”
“Rachel,” her husband hissed, “I don’t think that’s what Sir Arthur meant.”
“But I’m simply exhausted from my journey, darling,” she said.
Relieved that Mr. Baines had come to my rescue, I said, “Ida will be more than happy to help you, Mrs. Baines.”
“Yes, Hattie’s probably been too busy this morning typing up manuscript notes and rescuing little girls to see to anything else,” Sir Arthur said.
“Rescuing little girls?” Mrs. Triggs said, swinging her head around to look at me.
“That’s why Hattie appeared before us in tatters,” Sir Arthur said. “She’s been out on the river near General Starrett’s house. Tell them the story, Hattie.” I related the story of this morning’s adventure. Everyone seemed riveted by my tale, everyone except Mrs. Baines, who stood up and yawned.
“Excuse me, I’m going to my room now,” she said. “I’m simply exhausted by the journey. John, are you coming?” Her husband didn’t appear to hear her. “John? John? Jack!”
“Yes?” John Baines said.
“I said, are you coming?”
“I’ll be up in a moment,” he said. “Please, Miss Davish, you had me on the edge of my chair.” His wife stared at him, and then she glanced over at Lieutenant and Mrs. Triggs, who also seemed eager for the conclusion of my story.
“Mrs. Triggs,” Mrs. Baines said, “you look as exhausted as I feel. Wouldn’t you like to retire to your room?”
Mrs. Triggs’s shoulders drooped and all the color, except two rosy spots on her cheeks, left her face. She dropped her eyes to her lap.
“I didn’t notice it before,” Lieutenant Triggs said, “but you look unwell, Priscilla. Maybe you should lie down.” Mrs. Triggs visibly wilted before my eyes.
“But what about Hattie’s story and the little girl?” Priscilla Triggs said, almost in a whisper.
“You don’t need to hear the whole thing. We know the girl’s okay, right, Miss Davish?” Priscilla’s husband said. I nodded slowly, saddened by the sudden turn of events. Mrs. Triggs looked miserable as Rachel Baines took her arm.
“That story’s nothing,” Rachel Baines said. Priscilla Triggs looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide and filling with tears.
“But . . . ,” Priscilla said as Rachel Baines escorted her from the room.
“Did you know I was a nurse in the war?” Mrs. Baines said. “Well, let me tell you about the time I saved three boys from . . .”
Soon afterward, I excused myself to tend to the delivery that had arrived from Mrs. Brendel’s shop. With Ida’s and Harvey’s help, I spent the remainder of the morning decorating Sir Arthur’s house. We put bouquets of red and white roses in every room, except the Triggses’ bedroom, for flowers made the lieutenant sneeze. We laid boughs of holly across every windowsill and mantel throughout the house. We wrapped evergreen roping on the porch balustrade and pillars and draped it over every doorway, filling the house with the scent of fir and pine. As Harvey hung a branch of mistletoe from the entranceway chandelier, I couldn’t help but wish Walter were here.
All that was left was the red velvet ribbon to be draped from the dining room chandelier, and, most important, the Christmas tree. Although a vendor at Market House Square sold trees, I’d arranged for Harvey and me to take the horse and sleigh into the countryside to cut one down. I’d discovered a nice stand of white pines on one of my hikes. I was dressed to go and ready to leave when Ida came running out of the kitchen.
“
He
wants to see you,
ja?
” she said. Sir Arthur knew we were going to get the Christmas tree; what could it be now?
“Un, deux, trois. . . ,”
I began to count under my breath.
I’d been looking forward to getting the tree. I’d made an effort all morning to enjoy the decorating and not dwell on the incident with Gertie and the consequences that followed. We hadn’t heard how the little girl fared and it took all of my discipline not to let it occupy my thoughts. But no Christmas was complete without a tree. I used to cut down our Christmas tree with my father when I was a little girl and had eagerly awaited doing it again for the first time as an adult, even if my only company was a gruff carriage driver. I was frustrated and let out a big sigh.
“Can you wait a few minutes, Harvey?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, “but I won’t wait too long. Got too much shoveling to do.”
Sir Arthur was in the library.
“Come in,” he called after I knocked. “Ah, Hattie. This stuff is brilliant.” He had the notes General Starrett had dictated to me spread out on his desk before him. “I have a few points of clarification, but we’ll go over those later. First, this arrived for you.” He handed me an envelope of what looked like another Christmas card. It was postmarked St. Louis. I couldn’t recall knowing anyone from St. Louis. Then he picked up a simple, gold-bordered white card and waved it at me. I recognized it as General Starrett’s stationery. “Second, I have some interesting news for you.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Someone knocked on the door. “Come in.”
“Sir Arthur, I was looking at what the servants have done in the front parlor and I thought”—Rachel Baines stopped when she saw me, but only momentarily—“ that the front parlor mantel was too plain for the prominence of the room. I think it needs more embellishments, like red ribbon and gold-painted pinecones. Several different-sized candles would do nicely as well. When we decorate our home in Chicago, we always have—”
“Certainly, Rachel. I want you to feel at home. If you want more candles and ribbon, I’m sure that can be easily arranged.”
“And gold-painted pinecones?” she asked.
“Of course.” Sir Arthur looked at me. I nodded my assent to take care of it. “Anything else?”
“Well, I would also like to discuss the menu for Christmas dinner.”
“Of course, if you don’t mind waiting. I was about to relay some news to Hattie, here. We won’t be long, as she’s off to cut down our Christmas tree.” I was pleased that he remembered but growing impatient to hear about Gertrude Reynard’s recovery. I was careful not to allow my countenance to reveal either emotion.
“Of course. For you Sir Arthur,” Rachel Baines said, “I’ll wait.” But instead of excusing herself from the room, she deliberately sat down. Sir Arthur didn’t seem to notice, but I did.
“Hattie, this is an invitation from the Reynards for their dinner party tonight,” Sir Arthur said, waving the card at me again.
“Yes, sir,” I said. What was his point? I’d been the one who had delivered the invitation myself. What more did that have to do with me? And what about the little girl? What about Gertrude Reynard?
“I’m looking forward to meeting Mrs. Reynard and this infamous General Starrett,” Mrs. Baines said. “Unfortunately, someone didn’t warn me that we would be invited out.” She playfully wagged her finger at Sir Arthur. “I packed all wrong. Now I’ll have to go shopping.”
“Um, yes. Main Street has every shop you could need,” Sir Arthur said, not knowing how to handle this interruption.
“And who is this Captain Starrett? I can’t seem to get anyone to tell me about this mysterious man,” Mrs. Baines said, laughing nervously. Now what did she have to be nervous about?
“Like I was saying, Hattie,” Sir Arthur said, not deigning to reply to this second interruption, “this invitation is for you.”
“Excuse me?” Rachel Baines and I said simultaneously. She scowled at me.
“Excuse me, Sir Arthur, but why would a servant be invited to a dinner party? I don’t understand. Are rules of society different here than everywhere else I’ve been?” She sounded sincerely confused.
“Sir, I don’t understand either.” I had to admit I actually agreed with Mrs. Baines. When Adella Reynard had mentioned the dinner party to her grandfather, I had not been mentioned as a possible guest. What had changed?
“You saved Gertrude Reynard,” Sir Arthur said, in response to my unvoiced question.
“So the little girl will recover?” I asked.
“Fully,” Sir Arthur said. I was relieved.
“What little girl?” Mrs. Baines said. “Who is Gertrude Reynard?”
“She is the daughter of Frederick and Adella Reynard. The one from Hattie’s story this morning,” Sir Arthur said. “General Starrett’s great-granddaughter.”
“But what does that have to do with your secretary being invited to our dinner party?”
“Because, Mrs. Baines,” Sir Arthur said, handing me the envelope, “Adella Reynard is expressing her gratitude by inviting Hattie to be her guest.”
“Do you think I should accept?” I didn’t want to do anything that Sir Arthur would disapprove of.
“Of course you shouldn’t accept,” Mrs. Baines said, coming to her feet. “It’s inappropriate. I know it and you know it. You’ll feel uncomfortable at a table with your betters. What a way to express gratitude! You’d think Mrs. Reynard would be more sensitive.”
“Actually,” Sir Arthur said, smirking, “I think it’s a fine idea. You deserve it, Hattie, and I heard, through the grapevine, that Mrs. Monday has even helped out with some of the desserts.”