The Pattern Artist

by Moser, Nancy;

  Annie’s ire rose. “Men like him should be stopped.”

  “How?” Iris asked, motioning for Danny to move so they could start walking again. “He’s got the high position in the house. We don’t.”

  “When I confronted him about Iris, he laughed at me,” Danny said.

  Annie wasn’t surprised.

  “He dared me to tell Mr. Brandon.”

  “Did you?”

  Danny shook his head. “But when I get bigger, I’ll take care of him no matter what he says. Our pa was six-foot-three, so I’ll be tall like him someday.”

  Again Danny reminded Annie of her brother, Alfred, full of honor and high hopes.

  “Enough of him,” Iris said. “We have some time away, so let’s enjoy it.”

  “Where is this house we have to go to?” Annie asked.

  “A few blocks up Fifth. If we hurry and get that done, then I know a special place I want to show you.”

  Iris perked up. “Really, Danny? Do you think we have time to go to Macy’s?”

  “What’s Macy’s?”

  Danny grinned. “Mrs. Friesen calls it ‘a palace of product, pleasure, and profit.’ And she’s right. You have to see it.”

  Annie still wasn’t sure what it was.

  “It’s a department store. Eight floors heaped with things to buy.”

  “But I don’t have any money.”

  “Neither do we, but it’s fun to look. Come on! We need to hurry.”

  The three young people finished the task at the Franklins’ in quick fashion and soon found their way over to Herald Square. “There it is,” Iris said, as if viewing a holy relic. “Macy’s.”

  The store loomed over the street corner, taking up more than an entire block. Windows ran the length of the building, with glorious displays of goods from iceboxes to boots to baby prams.

  They stood in front of the window display of women’s dresses. “Will you look at that blue dress,” Annie said. “Don’t you love how the lace on the bodice hangs free, making the waist look tiny? I’d add a bit of beading at the edges of the lace, though. It looks a bit raw.”

  “You care about the fashion of it,” Iris said. “I don’t care what the fashion is. I just want the chance to sell it, to be around it all day, to be around people.”

  “You’re around people at the Friesens’,” Danny said.

  “I’m around other servants. I’m not around the family. They don’t want to even see me, they just want to see my work.”

  It was a true statement. The majority of the servants were supposed to be invisible to the family they served, hence the back stairway and the careful timing of the chores so rooms were cleaned and beds were made while the family was elsewhere.

  Once inside the store, all thoughts of the Friesens evaporated as the threesome entered a land of plenty. Every kind of bits and bobs were on display. They walked through wide aisles that showcased glass cases of hats, shoes, gloves, lace, fabrics, and …

  Annie stopped to gawk at a sewing machine. “May I help you, miss?” a clerk asked.

  “I’m just looking. Admiring.”

  “Do you sew?”

  “I do, but always by hand. To have a machine …”

  “Would you like to see how it works?”

  “Yes, I would, but …” Annie noticed Danny and Iris motioning her to move along. “Perhaps I can come back?”

  “Of course. I am always here.” She handed Annie a card with her name on it. “My name is Mrs. Holmquist. Feel free to ask for me.”

  Annie slipped the card in her pocket. If ever she could come back, she would.

  There was no denying it was hard returning to the Friesens’. After experiencing a bit of New York and Macy’s, Annie felt like a bird who’d jumped from the nest and learned to use its wings. She wanted to soar and explore, not return and yearn to be free again. Yet what choice did she have?

  The three of them came in the back way, and Danny and Iris immediately detoured to report to Mr. Brandon regarding the message he’d had them deliver, and give Mrs. Grimble her recipe. Annie headed upstairs to her room to change back into her uniform. But as she reached the landing on the floor of the family bedrooms, she was surprised by Grasston, who popped out from a dark corner and pulled her into it. He pushed her back against a wall, angling her arm behind her. He loomed close. He smelled of cigarettes.

  “You think you can come and go as you please?”

  Annie glanced down the hall leading to the bedrooms and kept her voice low. “I am not beholden to you.”

  “They noticed you were missing. I made sure of it.”

  What? How dare he!

  Fueled by anger, Annie pushed against him, but Grasston pinned her tightly against the wall, forcing her to turn her head to the side to avoid his warm breath on her face. He whispered in her ear. “I always wanted to taste an English tart.”

  He bit her earlobe. Then he stepped back, gave her a wink, and retreated downstairs—into the bowels of Hades where he belonged.

  Her strength drained out of her, and Annie found the wall a necessity. Her thoughts ricocheted with the bad news that her mistresses and the Misses knew she had left without permission, the lingering memory of Grasston’s hands, and the fear it would happen again. Or worse.

  She heard female voices in the hallway. Lady Newley’s words rushed down the hall to her ears. “Annie is where?”

  Miss Miller answered. “I have no idea, my lady. But I assure you I will find out.”

  Her wings clipped, Annie hurried upstairs to change into the clothes of a servant again.

  She had just tied her apron when Iris came in their room, also ready to change back into her maid uniform.

  “Mr. Brandon didn’t say a thing about us being gone too long, so everything worked—”

  “They know I left.”

  Iris put her coat on the hook. “How do you know they know?”

  She decided not to mention Grasston—yet. “I overheard Lady Newley and Miss Miller in the hall.”

  Iris removed her hat and sat on the bed. “What are you going to tell them?”

  “The truth. I have no feasible lie.”

  “What will they do to you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “They can’t send you home. It’s too far away. Can they?”

  Surely such a punishment would be an overreaction. What had she done wrong except fail to ask permission?

  Annie chose to check in with Miss Henrietta first. She knocked on her door and waited for permission to enter. Henrietta sat at the dressing table, removing her earrings.

  “Good afternoon, miss. Did you have a pleasant time at your outing?”

  Annie received a pointed stare. “Did you?”

  Annie’s insides flipped.

  “The footman let us know of your absence.”

  Once again Annie was stunned by Grasston’s gall. Yet it was best to face the issue head-on. She moved to help Henrietta with the removal of her other jewelry. “Actually, I had a very pleasant time. I haven’t been out of the house except for church since we arrived.”

  “Really? Didn’t you have Sunday afternoon free?”

  “It was raining.”

  Miss Henrietta’s nod eased Annie’s nerves. Then she locked her gaze with Annie’s in the mirror. “You should have asked permission.”

  “Agreed, miss. But both the Misses were indisposed and didn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Perhaps you should have left a note.”

  Why hadn’t she thought of that? “You are right. I should have. But I thought I would be back before you returned.”

  “Ours was a shorter outing than I’d hoped it would be. But Mother seemed peeved at the way the charity work was being handled, so she wanted to come home.” She stood. “It was far too dramatic. I need a nap. I don’t wish to wait for Miss Dougard. Help me undress.”

  That task accomplished, Annie fluffed the pillows and readied an afghan as Miss Henrietta lay down. “Did you come up
on anything exciting on your outing?” she asked Annie.

  Annie wasn’t certain she should mention where they went, as it was out of the way from their initial errand, but decided to share because surely Miss Henrietta would be interested in Macy’s. “The outside windows hinted at what they had to offer. Then once inside there were thousands of items to buy, floors and floors of pretty things.”

  Miss Henrietta snuggled into the pillows. “You haven’t been to London with us, have you? You’ve never seen Harrods department store.”

  “It has display windows and many floors?”

  “It does indeed.” She yawned. “The window displays entice you inside to buy. It’s quite impossible not to be lured in.”

  “They know what they’re doing with that.”

  “Indeed they do. Now go. But tell Miss Dougard to wake me for tea.”

  Annie slipped out, feeling lucky to have no consequences.

  “Annie Wood!”

  She spun around and found the Misses exiting Lady Newley’s room. Miss Dougard had a rose-colored dress on her arm.

  Annie readied herself for another scolding but put a finger to her lips. “Miss Henrietta is resting.”

  The three women moved away from the bedroom doors. Then Miss Miller said, “Perhaps Miss Wood is exhausted from her own excursion? It seems you like to break the rules when others take a kip.”

  Annie stifled a sigh but repeated her explanation and her apology. “I should have left a note. I am sorry.”

  “You should be. Lady Newley is quite upset by your insubordination.”

  “It shan’t happen again.” As she said the words she felt a wave of sadness. She wanted to go out again. And again. And again. On any day of the week, not their free Sunday afternoon when nothing was open. Mrs. Holmquist and the sewing machine were waiting for her.

  “Here,” Miss Miller said, grabbing the dress from Miss Dougard’s arms. “As punishment we have some extra work for you. Add some beading to the bodice of this dress. Lady Newley has realized the fashion of Mrs. Friesen overshadows her own.”

  If this was punishment, Annie would gladly accept it. Sewing for the Misses was nothing new. “Where do I get the beads?”

  “Come to my room. I brought a store of them from home.”

  Annie held the dress at arm’s length. “Any special instructions?”

  Miss Miller pointed to the scooped neck bodice. “Something along there, but not like the beading you did on her sage dress. Something different.”

  “Use your imagination,” Miss Dougard said.

  That was hardly punishment.

  Up in the hideaway, Annie enjoyed having time alone to do the beading. While she did the work, she pondered two disparate issues: her newly born pleasure of exploring the city and her newly born fear of Grasston. As they were due to stay at the Friesens’ for six weeks, she hoped for more weekday outings. To the other issue, she was wary of Grasston’s unwanted attention. In the short time she’d been in residence, he’d shown a disturbing aggression that would probably get worse rather than better.

  To fight back the fear, she reminded herself that he wasn’t the first male who’d assumed too much and been too grabby. She might be only a maid, but she was a maid in the truest form of the word and planned to keep it that way. She’d known other girls who’d succumbed to temptation. Nothing good came of it. The only result was a ruination of their lives—never love. Annie wanted to fall in love someday, but not with someone who was merely handsome and charming. She wanted a man who challenged her, made her want to be more than she was alone, a true partner.

  She finished the beadwork, tied off the thread, and cut it. She held the dress to inspect her work. “Lovely. As usual.”

  If she didn’t say so herself. Yet if she didn’t say it, who would?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Upon hearing Mr. Brandon’s chastising voice, Annie paused on the last step of the stairs leading to the basement. She didn’t want to embarrass another servant by witnessing a scolding.

  “Really, Mr. Grasston, this is the second time you’ve arrived for service without the proper gloves. I fail to understand what is so difficult about maintaining your proper uniform.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what happens. I remove them to do other work and—”

  “And they disappear?”

  There was a pause. “They do, sir.”

  “Are you saying we have spirits in the house, Mr. Grasston?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Are you accusing others of stealing your gloves?”

  “Well …”

  “Passing the blame is not acceptable. Unless you have proof that others are pilfering your gloves—which I have difficulty imagining—you must take responsibility. But know this, Mr. Grasston: I am giving you a warning. If you come on duty again without the proper gloves, I will dock your pay for a dozen pair. I believe that should rectify the matter if you cannot.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Very well then. You have work to do in the dining room.”

  In a split second, Annie realized Grasston would be using the stairs. She considered retreating upward but knew her footsteps would be heard. Best to continue down. She quickly backtracked three steps then came downstairs, passing Grasston as he started upstairs. Neither greeted each other, but after a few steps she heard him pause and felt chill bumps up her spine as she headed down the corridor. Was he wondering if she overheard?

  She smiled at the thought. Let him squirm.

  Then, ignoring common sense, she turned to look at him. “Lose something, Mr. Grasston?”

  Only the sound of footsteps on the stairs saved her from his retort.

  Or worse.

  The Kidds and the Friesens were set to attend a formal dinner, which required extra care in the ladies’ toilette. Annie moved between the rooms of Miss Henrietta and Lady Newley, assisting the Misses. She was thrilled to see that Lady Newley was going to wear the dress Annie had beaded. It was some of her finest work.

  When Miss Miller left her ladyship’s bedroom to retrieve her jewels from the Friesens’ safe, Annie was left alone with her.

  Ask her how she likes the beading. Now’s your chance.

  “Fetch my gloves, Annie,” Lady Newley said.

  Annie did as she was told, but as she was buttoning the twenty buttons that edged the inner seam, Annie took a chance. “I hope the new beading on your dress pleases you, my lady?”

  Lady Newley put her free hand upon the beads. “It does. Miss Miller does such fine work. I couldn’t ask for a more talented lady’s maid.”

  Miss Miller’s work?

  Upon hearing the words of betrayal, Annie stopped buttoning the gloves.

  “Annie? Come now. Finish up.”

  They didn’t give me credit?

  Two more questions came next, ricocheting against the first. Have they ever given me credit? Do my mistresses truly attribute all the fine detail on their dresses, all the hours and hours of work, to the Misses?

  Somehow Annie finished buttoning the gloves. But then Miss Miller came in carrying two velvet boxes of jewels and shooed Annie away. “Go on, girl. There are towels to clean up in the bath.”

  “And I’d like a fresh pillowcase, if you please,” her mistress said.

  Annie walked into the hall in a daze. They truly thought of her as a housemaid. Nothing more.

  That’s because you are a housemaid. Nothing more.

  All her hard work learning the details and intricacies of sewing and dressmaking so she could rise to the position of lady’s maid … Had she ever had a chance? Or had she created her own dream and her own scenario that had never owned any basis in fact?

  Annie went into the bathroom and cleaned up the towels, wiping down the floor. Maid’s work. Anger stirred inside even as her body accomplished the work. She felt like a fool who’d been duped into striving for something that was impossible. She had more chance of building a skyscraper than she did of building a life as a lady’s
maid.

  “They shan’t get away with this” became her mantra as she scrubbed the tub. By the time her work was finished and the towels were taken downstairs to the laundry, she knew what she had to do.

  Annie stood outside Miss Miller’s room, her heart pounding in her ears. Inner warnings that she should let the betrayal pass collided with the need for justice and the unrelenting desire for her emotions to be released.

  Please, God. Help me.

  Help her what? Confront Miss Miller?

  For better or worse.

  With a fresh breath Annie knocked on the door, her first knock more forceful than the next two.

  “Yes?” Miss Miller said.

  Annie stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Miss Miller sat in an easy chair, reading a book.

  “If you’re wanting another outing, the answer is no.”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  With a dramatic sigh, Miss Miller shut her book and removed her spectacles. “But I don’t need—or wish—to talk to you. I need you to leave. I’ve had a hard day.”

  “Doing what?”

  “What did you say?”

  “What have you done today—or any day—that constitutes hard work?”

  Miss Miller rose from her chair, the book thudding to the floor. “Leave!” she said, pointing to the door. “I insist you leave this minute.”

  Suddenly the door opened behind Annie, and Miss Dougard slipped in, closing the door behind her. “What’s going on in here?” she whispered. “I could hear you in the hall.”

  “Annie was just leaving.”

  “I will leave as soon as I’ve said my piece.”

  “Your piece?” Miss Miller said. “You’re the one in trouble.”

  “Not anymore.” She cringed at her own word choice. It was too late to stop now. Annie drew in a breath and began. “I object to both of you taking credit for my beading work—for all the sewing work I’ve done for Lady Newley and Miss Henrietta. I thought they knew I was doing the work.”

  “And why would they know that?” Miss Miller asked as she retrieved her book.

  It took Annie a moment to recover from shock. “Because you’d tell them. Because you wouldn’t take credit for work you didn’t do.”