Spectacles of Love (Spinster Orphan Train)

by Teresa Ives Lilly

  Spectacles of Love

  (Spinster Orphan Train)

  Teresa Ives Lilly

  Copyright 2017 Teresa Ives Lilly

  Published by: Forget Me Not Romances, a division of Winged Publications

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Let us remember those who tried to help the poor.

  Chapter 1

  1890 Manhattan, New York

  Charlene Trumbel’s hand shook slightly. It was the only indication of the anger she felt. Sitting at the end of the long table, listening to the conversation between her father and Mr. Robert Thornton had sparked her interest. However, the man’s words upset her greatly.

  “Those in the lower class don’t deserve help. They choose not to help themselves so they get what they deserve.”

  Charlene could hardly believe the man’s words. Surely no one could possibly think that the thousands of poor people in New York wanted to live lives of poverty.

  Just this week, her father read an article to her by a man named Jacob Riis called How the Other Half Lives. Using a new photographic method that ignited flash powder to provide enough illumination to take photos in darkness, Mr. Riis included photos of some of these poverty stricken people. His hope in publishing the photos was to encourage the public to clean up the squalid conditions of the poor.

  Why isn’t father sharing the information from the article with everyone? I know he, too, believes in helping the poor.

  As she sat, silently fuming, Charlene reached out for her water glass. Unfortunately, in the blur she could see, her hand missed the glass, knocking it over. The water began to spread across the silk tablecloth. The maid rushed forward, took the glass and pressed a clean cloth on the water to keep it from spreading.

  “What a clumsy oaf you are.” Charlene’s stepmother, who sat beside her, leaned over and whispered through clenched teeth. “Is there no end to the humiliation I have to endure when you are present?”

  Charlene’s cheeks flushed. It was embarrassing for her as well as for her stepmother, but she couldn’t help it. She was unable to see well.

  Her private tutor suggested spectacles for her years earlier, but her father refused. Instead, he ended her education. And her stepmother, almost the same age as Charlene, wouldn’t even consider it. Whenever Charlene even mentioned it, she would rage, “I’ll not be seen with someone wearing spectacles. It’s shameful. What will people think?”

  Charlene was sure all eyes were on her, although she wasn’t able to clearly see all the guests. However, a man’s deep voice pulled any attention away from her.

  “As you know, I’m a superintendent in Kansas at the West Side Lodging House for Homeless Boys. I also work as a placement agent under the director of the Children’s Aid Society of the City of New York. I have seen firsthand the effects of poverty on the children of the poor.”

  Charlene recognized the voice of Mr. William J. McCully. She was glad to hear him speak up. He was an advocate for helping orphans in New York. In fact, under his directorship, several hundred orphans were sent to Kansas each year to be adopted by families in the West.

  Robert Thornton interrupted the man. “Oh, no, McCully. Please don’t start in with your ‘Orphan Train’ stories again. Haven’t we all donated enough money to your cause already?”

  Charlene gasped at the man’s rudeness. She could never understand why her father allowed Mr. Thornton to step foot into their home. He didn’t see things as she and her father did.

  How I would love to speak out about this, her mind raged. However, she knew neither her father nor her stepmother would approve. Even at the age of twenty-four, already a spinster in her family’s eyes, she still had to adhere to the childhood rules of being seen but not heard.

  Yet her stepmother, just three years her senior, spoke quite as volubly as she wished about any and all subjects; about most of which, she knew nothing.

  “Now Robert, Darling,” her stepmother spoke to the man beside her in a coy voice. “Let Mr. McCully speak. My dear husband, Charles, just dotes on him.”

  At that, all eyes turned to Mr. McCully, whose face showed a shocked expression. It was clear he did not need or want Mrs. Trumbel’s protection from Thornton. Also, being a strict Presbyterian man, he didn’t approve of the way Mrs. Trumbel’s hand remained on Robert Thornton’s sleeve.

  He cleared his throat and continued, “Well, as I’ve said many times in the past, New York City is overrun with orphans. There is no place for them to go; orphanages and churches cannot take them all.”

  “So, do you believe we, the upper class, should take them in, preferably as servants?” one of the other guests asked. From the sound of her voice, Charlene suspected she was a member of the extremely wealthy Vanderbilt family.

  “No. These children need clean air and invigorating work. That is why I became a Placement Agent for the Orphan Trains. We take as many children as we can out West. There are families willing to adopt these children or at least to take them on as foster children.”

  Thornton snorted, “More like slave labor, I’d say. However, it seems a better choice than allowing them to run wild in the streets of New York. They are sure to grow up to be thieves if left here.”

  Mr. McCully sighed. “If left on the streets of New York, more than likely they will die. Out West, some of the older children are put to work on farms, but the younger ones are often adopted into loving families. Reverend Charles Loring Brace, who started the Orphan Trains, developed what he called ‘the family plan.’ This means a child from New York, sent to Kansas or other states, can be taken into a home and treated as part of the family. Given the same food, clothing, education and spiritual training as their own children. “

  “And what if they aren’t given all those things, but are put to work instead?”

  “He still believes these children have a better chance at life out West than they have on the streets of New York. He has been sending groups since 1854.”

  “And what about you? How many children have you helped send West?” Charles Trumbel asked.

  “Kansas alone has taken in over six hundred children to date, and I plan on sending more.” The man spoke in a humble voice.

  Charlene’s respect for him grew.

  “So now comes the begging for money,” Thornton scoffed. “Every time you get a train full of those orphans gathered up, you come to those of us who have money.”

  Charlene wanted to reach across her stepmother and stick a roll into Mr. Thornton’s mouth. The man was beyond rude. But Mr. McCully was not disturbed by the man’s boorish behavior.

  “Indeed, I do come to those of you who I believe can afford to help. If not you, then who?”

  No one at the table seemed able to answer him.

  Charlene’s father spoke next. “McCully, we’ve all given to you in the past. Yet, this time seems different. I can see by the gleam in your eyes. Pray tell us what it is you need so we can go on with the meal.”

  Charlene covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. Her father did not like anything to interrupt his meals as his large waist indicated.

  “Yes, thank you. Well, I was hoping you could sponsor this next group I’m sending to Kansas, Mr. Trumbel. Other wealthy men have been known to sponsor a group. The total cost for each child to travel to Kansas and to pay the Matron who travels with them is a mere ten dollars a child.”

  Charlene felt her stepmother stiffen beside her. “Charles! You can’t possibly believe this to be the bes
t use of your money.”

  Charlene noted the silence. She could imagine the look on her father’s face. The man would give his new wife almost anything she asked for, but he would never abide being ridiculed or questioned, especially in front of guests.

  Mr. Trumbel’s words came out from between pressed lips. “I’m sure you won’t mind giving up a few new gowns this year, Dear. The price to help some needy orphans would be worth it. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes… Yes, of course.” Charlene could hear the tone of indignation in her stepmother’s voice. But she knew the girl would never outwardly defy her husband.

  “Good then. We would love to sponsor this next Orphan Train, McCully. When does it depart?”

  “In two weeks. We are currently looking for someone to come along. The Matron we have scheduled has been recovering from a broken wrist. Although she will be able to travel, she will need help.”

  ~

  Charlene waited until all the guests left the table before she rose. When she could tell the others had left the room, she pushed back her chair and began to make her way around the table, holding onto the edge.

  Although she could see well enough to maneuver the room, she was still apt to bump into other people or knock over things.

  She shook her head sadly. If only they would allow me to wear spectacles. My life could be so different. But they worry so about their public image.

  She stood and straightened her turquoise tea gown and smiled. At least this is one thing that has changed. I’m no longer hampered by such tight corsets. The new invention of these looser fitting tea gowns has given me some freedom. I only wish I could wear them all day long, but for now, even if they can only be worn in the house, I’m happy to have some relief.

  As she made her way along the hallway, she bit her lip. Her father would expect her to come to the drawing room and mingle with his guests. Her stepmother, however, would rather she not be present.

  I may be an old maid, but Stepmother cannot abide the fact that I’m pretty. Not that my beauty has ever won me any attention. The moment any man realizes I can’t see very well, he turns away. Father can keep trying to foist me off on his friends, but I’m more apt to stay an old maid for the rest of my life.

  With a slight bitter laugh, she moved more quickly.

  Stepmother won’t like the idea of me continuing to live here with father for the rest of my life. I have to find something else to do, somewhere else to go.

  Outside the drawing room door, Charlene shrugged her shoulders, took a deep breath and attempted to glide into the room. However, just a few steps in, she stumbled into a chair, which must have been moved by one of the guests.

  “Oh!” she moaned, covering her mouth, trying to keep the gasp of pain quiet. She’d hit her knee rather hard on the chair.

  Before she could even move, her stepmother was by her side. “Again? I begin to believe you do these things just to get attention. Please refrain from such theatrics. Stand in the corner like a good daughter, and don’t draw any more attention to yourself.”

  Charlene nodded and moved to the side of the room. She slid down onto a decorative chair and placed her hands in her lap. It’s going to be a long night.

  Chapter 2

  “Miss Trumbel, why are you hiding in this corner?” Charlene’s thoughts were interrupted by Robert Thornton’s voice.

  She lifted her eyes to focus on his face. “I’m not hiding.”

  “Well, you aren’t mingling.”

  “No, I’m not very good at socializing. I do better sitting quietly, listening.”

  Robert Thornton turned and pulled another chair across the floor and placed it beside Charlene. She was rather surprised.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I join you. I’ve heard enough from McCully for one evening.”

  Charlene swallowed, a sharp retort on her tongue.

  “All that talk about orphans, as if they were his own children.”

  “Have you an objection to orphans?” Charlene asked, her tone sharp.

  “Orphans? No, not in general, and I’m more than happy to know they are being toted out of New York. However, I do object to being forced to hear the stories about them.”

  “Hmm, I believe the best way for Mr. McCully to raise enough money, to ‘tote’ the orphans out of the city, is to raise awareness. What better way than to share stories about the children?”

  Robert Thornton sat silent for a moment then, with a chuckle, said, “So I won’t find any sympathy from you. You are a supporter of McCully then?”

  Charlene crossed her arms. “Yes, I am.”

  The man reached over and lifted Charlene’s hand and pressed it to his lips. In irritation, she pulled her hand away.

  “Forgive me for being so boorish. I see my feelings about the Orphan Train have upset you. But may I make a solemn promise to you?”

  “Me? What promise can you make to me?”

  “The promise to sway my support to McCully and his Orphan Train project. I’m a wealthy man and can afford to support him, if that makes you happy.”

  Charlene felt confused. “I see no reason for you to be concerned about my happiness. I would have you support McCully from the kindness of your own heart.”

  “But, my dear, that is the point. I am concerned about your happiness. Have you not noticed my recent increase in visits to your home and how I’ve made a point to seek you out for conversation?”

  Charlene shook her head. “Indeed, no. I assume you have been here often visiting your ‘old friend,’ my stepmother.”

  Mr. Thornton chuckled. “Altheia? She’s a lovely creature, but, as you said, she is your stepmother. I’m not a man who is interested in married women.”

  Charlene’s hand went to her throat. “But…” She was not able to go on because at that moment her stepmother stopped before them.

  “What plan are you two hatching over here?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

  Robert Thornton stood. “Plan?”

  “Well, what else could have you both so absorbed?” Her eyes focused on Charlene.

  Charlene could feel the woman’s stare. She, too, stood. “I must say goodnight for the evening.” She scooted along the wall and slipped into the hallway.

  Oh Lord, I will never hear the end of this. Once Altheia discovers that Mr. Thornton is interested in me, she’ll be very angry.

  Charlene moved as quickly as she could to her room, avoiding the myriad of vases, tables and chairs that lined the hallway. Once there, she locked the door so there would be no chance of her stepmother entering her room until morning.

  Soon enough to hear her complaints.

  Charlene stepped across the room and pushed aside the curtains. The moon was full, lighting the entire evening sky. For Charlene, it was a blur.

  Lord, You’ve blessed me all these years with a life of luxury and the love of my earthly father. I ask now for You to use me somehow to be a blessing to others and give me a way to leave this home and find love.

  She pressed her head against the windowpane and allowed tears to flow down her cheeks.

  ~

  The following morning, Charlene opened her eyes in surprise then laid still thinking of the dream from the night before.

  Suddenly, it all became clear. The dream was not just a fanciful fleeting thing. It was an answer sent from God. She slipped off the bed onto her knees and bowed her head in reverence.

  Thank you, Lord. It is all so clear now. I know exactly what to do.

  Charlene dressed in her tulip bell skirt, which was snug and smooth over her hips but flared out to a wider hem, along with a lovely dark mauve blouse.

  Although I can’t see my own image clearly, I’m sure this outfit makes me look like a most sturdy woman. I’m sure Mr. McCully will not deny my wish.

  ~

  When she stepped into the room for breakfast, her eyes fell on the long buffet set with several trays. There were many dishes to choose from, but she also knew that most of the food would
go to waste.

  Her father was already seated at the end of the long table. She quickly filled a plate and slipped into the seat beside him.

  “Father, why don’t we tell Cook not to make so much food? You know we never eat it all. It’s wasteful.”

  Her father looked solemnly at her, then the corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Bent on saving the world today?”

  “No, but really. Have you ever thought of how many people have no food? Yet here we sit with more than enough.”

  “Yes, it often seems unfair. But keep in mind, I do work hard to pay for this food.” His hand waved to indicate the buffet.

  “Even more reason not to allow so much waste.”

  Her father took a bite of his eggs then nodded. “I do think you’re right. I’ll have Altheia speak to Cook today.”

  Charlene shook her head. “Best let me do it. Altheia may feel differently about it.”

  “Wise girl, I think you’re right. Then I leave it up to you. Now, since we are talking about the squandering of wealth, I believe there is an article in the newspaper today to interest you.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  “Man named Ward McAllister wrote a piece called Opulence in the Gilded Age. Seems to speak about wealthy families who live in unbridled influence. Describes a banquet given by some of our friends.”

  Charlene finished her breakfast then picked up the newspaper and began to read the article, holding it close to her face to see better.

  “So, there you are!” Her stepmother’s accusing voice pulled her eyes from the article. “I went to your room last night but found your door locked, and then I returned this morning to find your room empty.”

  Charlene set the paper down and looked up at the woman with innocent eyes. “Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?”

  Altheia stamped a foot. “Yes, but first I don’t think it’s right for you to lock your door. This is your father’s house, and he should have access to your room anytime he wishes.”